


Waking Dreams

by jazwriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-10 23:19:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16464251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazwriter/pseuds/jazwriter
Summary: Hermione leaves with Harry and Ron to find Horcruxes, arranges for a way to keep in touch with Minerva, and helps save the wizarding world while falling in love with the (other) most brilliant witch of their age (you know, Minerva).This is in response to a request made by gville27858 for a romantic Hermione/Minerva story with Hermione getting expelled and the two keeping in touch somehow while Hermione and the boys are hunting for horcruxes. No problem! The tale begins directly after Dumbledore's untimely demise.





	1. June 1997

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on Live Journal and ff.net in August 2012 through May 2013. I have cleaned it up a bit. It has a Prologue, 12 chapters, and an Epilogue. 
> 
> Betas are awesome!!! Please spare a moment or three to give silent thanks and praise to some wonderful individuals—shesgottaread, peetsden, akasarahsmom (GinStan), and quiethearted for their support and kind words while I pulled out my hair over little details that you probably won’t see but I needed to figure out in order to write the story (such as some UK laws and the HP timeline). You are all awesome, and I count myself very fortunate to have your guidance and support.
> 
> Disclaimers: I’m still a lawyer and a piss-ant (and I am also called many other “nicknames” given to me over time amidst bouts of affection, joy, grief, and aggravation, but I won’t share them here). Suffice it to say, I am merely offering this story for its entertainment value, and it’s protected by the fair use doctrine. I am receiving no profit, but hopefully I will receive some kind words for my efforts. 
> 
> Oh yeah—I do not own Harry Potter, any of the characters associated with the books, movies, audiotapes, video games, theme park, knick-knacks, assorted sundry, or wands (except for the one I made in my backyard with a dead branch—it still doesn’t work. And the one I bought at The Wizarding World of Harry Potte which also doesn't work—I want my money back).

Hermione is motionless in the Astronomy courtyard, surrounded by students and professors. All stand frozen, like a band of protectors, as Harry kneels beside a too-still Headmaster. Albus Dumbledore, one of the most revered and powerful wizards of the wizarding world, lies on the grassy plain next to the stone tower as if asleep, his white hair moving each time the zephyr whispers, the breeze seeming so much louder than the distressed murmurings emitted by those who are immobilized by disbelief, horror, and desolation.

Harry's sobs break through the distraught assembly, drowning out all other sounds.

Ginny strides through the crowd and sinks next to Harry, holding him as his sorrow overwhelms him. Hermione feels tears run down her face, upset over the senseless death of a great man, but even more upset that one of her best friends is in so much pain. Ron stands to her right, as frozen as she is. She doesn’t know what to do except to act as a witness. To her left stands Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration professor of Hogwarts and, no doubt now, the one who will have to pick up the pieces by stepping into his enormous shoes. Hermione knows the formidable witch will do everything in her power to keep her charges safe. She does not envy the task set before her favorite professor. 

Over the last few years, really ever since her third year when she received a time-turner from her Transfiguration professor, Hermione has found herself intermittently visiting Professor McGonagall in the evenings to discuss classes, research, and anything to do with magic. At first she hesitated to impose, but the professor welcomed her each time, even going so far as to start scheduling their times together so she would not need to shorten such visits for meetings or other demands on her time.

At the end of the last school year Hermione watched in horror as Professor McGonagall was hit by four stunners some corrupt Ministry officials shot at her, nearly killing her. It was then Hermione realized how much her mentor meant to her, how lost she would be without the woman in her life.

After Professor McGonagall's attack, Hermione, beside herself with worry, enlisted the help of her Charms professor, Filius Flitwick, to obtain permission to see her at the hospital. Without his intervention, she might not have succeeded in seeing the woman before the end of the school year. Hermione envisions in her mind's eye how Professor McGonagall looked on that day. Seeing her so still in the hospital bed, eyes closed with a false appearance of peace enshrouding her visage—it is reminiscent of how Professor Dumbledore appears now. And as then, Hermione is helpless to hold back the tears, the well of emotion which rises up and crashes through her reserves. She fights to hold back the sobs, glancing to her right to find glossy green eyes latching onto hers. Hermione wants to close the gap between them but will not dare embarrass the older woman.

It is only this year that their meetings have become more personal. Although always appropriate, more warmth is present in her mentor's voice and eyes when they are behind closed doors, and Hermione has found herself confiding her fears and frustrations when they have become too much to hold in. Professor McGonagall has also hesitantly revealed some of the events occurring in the wizarding world, her various contacts allowing her to keep abreast of the rising threat Voldemort has presented.

Hermione watches Professor McGonagall slowly raise her arm toward the sky, wand in hand. Above them the ominous Dark Mark sign blights the sky in the shape of a skull's head with a snake protruding through its open maw. Hermione raises her hand, too, understanding they are to remove the ugly signal of death bestowed by Voldemort's followers. Others follow their lead, raising their arms grimly as soft, muffled cries assault Hermione's tender heart. The clouds part as the unnatural shape dissipates, and moonlight shines over the congregation, casting its glow over the heartrending moment.

***

Picking up her tumbler, Minerva does not hesitate to sip some of the strong firewhiskey that fills it. Her hands still shake with rage, sorrow, and guilt. She had trusted Severus! To think that he, one of Albus's most trusted colleagues and a man Minerva had taught beside for nearly twenty years, killed her dearest friend. Tremors pass through her body, and she drinks more of the fiery alcohol, hoping to calm her nerves at least a bit.

A knock elicits a pained groan from her lips before she presses them together. After taking a deep breath to calm herself, she calls out. "Come in." Watching as Hermione slowly walks over the threshold, she feels her heart lurch. Her protégé, a young woman she has enjoyed guiding through the years much more than is probably proper, stands before her with an air of solemnity which pulls Minerva out of her chair.

Taking Hermione in her arms, she ignores how her student stiffens and holds on. After a few awkward moments, she feels Hermione melt into the embrace, wrapping slender arms around her waist. They stand that way as their hearts synchronize, and Minerva thanks Merlin for this brief moment of respite.

This is the first time she has hugged a student for more years than she cares to remember. Not just a student. Anyone. She is an extremely private person, and although she cares greatly for her students, Minerva has always been cautious to not become too attached. Students pass through the halls, mature, graduate, and move on. Caring too much for a student can play havoc with Minerva's heart, and for that reason she normally does not allow for such personal attachments.

Not that there is anything normal about the woman currently tucked in her arms. Hermione has faced more in her relatively short lifetime than many will ever experience. Squeezing Hermione affectionately, Minerva steps away regretfully. "Please, come sit with me." She points to the large mahogany Chesterfield located before a fireplace where embers glow enticingly. She follows Hermione, who sits down gingerly in her regular spot. Minerva feels her lips quirk at the familiarity inherent through such rote motion. "Tea?"

"Perhaps some of what you were drinking a moment ago."

Surprised by the bold request, Minerva takes her time to decide. Certainly while Hermione is under the school's care, she should not drink. However, school term has ended, and Hermione, like so many other students, is remaining on the grounds to pay her respects to Albus when they hold his funeral. Moreover, she is of legal age to drink.  Surely, one shared between teacher and student may be viewed as unacceptable, but Hermione is more than that to her. Has been for a long time.

Nodding, Minerva rises to retrieve her drink and pours a portion for her guest. Student. Protégé. Friend?

It is hard to determine. This year she has opened up to the younger witch. Nothing truly personal, but the information she has divulged is highly sensitive and if told to the wrong person, could prove dangerous. Perhaps they are not friends yet, but she has been building toward that eventuality, wishing to deepen their relationship once Hermione graduates next year.

"I am sorry for your loss, Professor," Hermione’s voice is a quiet murmur. She raises her glass. "Professor Dumbledore. To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

With misty eyes, Minerva sips from her glass. "That sounds like something he would say.”

"He said it to Harry during our first year. It has stuck with me."

They sit in silence, comforted by each other's company, neither wanting to tackle the obvious topic of what will happen next. Minerva is tired, and she cannot fathom leading anyone while feeling so adrift. A hand gently squeezing her thigh gets her attention.

"I have to tell you something."

Cocking her head, Minerva takes a good look at Hermione. Her eyes reflect maturity, courage, and determination. Whatever it is, this is no small matter.

"What is it, Miss Granger?"

"Harry will not be returning to Hogwarts for seventh year. He has been set upon a quest by Professor Dumbledore, and he will not be swayed from finishing it. He will need help. Ron and I will be going with him." Her message sinks into Minerva's gut, forming into a tight, hot boulder.

"Oh." To lose Albus and now Hermione. She shakes her head in denial. _There must be another way._

"You must know I love being here, but he needs me. He won't succeed otherwise." Hermione’s brown eyes plead for understanding. Acceptance.

She understands. _Haven't we all risked death to defeat Voldemort? Hadn't Albus just gambled and lost?_ How could she even think about blocking Hermione's plans? She cannot afford to be so selfish. Their world is depending upon them to play their parts.

"Will you keep in touch?" Minerva thinks she can withstand this forced separation if she at least knows Hermione is safe. "Send word from time to time?"

"I don't know how I would manage it. He will be looking for Harry. We will be on the run, changing location frequently." Hermione shakes her head.

Minerva can see the sorrow in mocha eyes, and she wants nothing more than to pull Hermione back in her arms to provide comfort. To Hermione. To herself.

Clasping her fingers together on her lap, Minerva turns over in her mind different ways they can keep in touch. Owls are out since they can be intercepted. Patronuses will only work if she knows where to send them. Perhaps some form of legilimency...

"I have an idea." Minerva’s mind works furiously, reviewing everything she knows about what she is going to propose. It’s certainly unorthodox, bordering on intrusive, but if they both agree to it, she will be able to keep in touch with Hermione, support her, and know she’s alive. Pushing aside her reticence, Minerva continues. "There’s a spell called 'waking dream.' It will enable us to meet in a dreamscape. It’s a much kinder version of legilimency, particularly since both parties must provide consent to it. We will both have to cast the spell before going to sleep, and only then will our minds meet. We will be able to talk as we are now, only in reality, we will be asleep. Thankfully, the conversation will not fade as a dream does when we awaken."

"That sounds...that sounds intriguing. Have you done it before?" Her face is the picture of curiosity. Minerva barely refrains from chuckling. Truly, she is the consummate student, always interested in learning something new.

"Yes. If you want, we can try it before you leave Hogwarts so you’ll know how it works," Minerva offers.

"Okay. What is the incantation?"

" _Insomnius inconnivus_ and my name. I will say the same words but with your name. If one of us does not say it before going to sleep, the spell will not work."

" _Insomnius inconnivus_ ," Hermione repeats. Minerva nods.

 "These are the wand strokes." Holding her wand in front of her, Minerva loops it twice in a figure eight shape and draws a line through the middle of it, top to bottom.  She watches as Hermione repeats her movements perfectly. "Good."

"Thank you, Professor. It will be good to know what’s happening while we’re gone. And I...I mean, well, I will miss some of the people here," Hermione says, her eyes jumping to the fireplace, the wall, the floor.

Smiling gently, Minerva understands she means she’ll miss her. It comforts her. "Call me Minerva." They are comrades-in-arms now, both members of the Order of the Phoenix, both fighting against Voldemort. She is no longer a student, and Minerva cannot deny this intimacy when she will be allowing the younger witch access to her thoughts and dreams.

"Thank you. And please, call me Hermione." They smile sadly at each other. This is a bittersweet moment.

"When will you be leaving?" Minerva sips the last of her whiskey and contemplates pouring more.

"After the funeral I will return home to spend some time with my parents. I'm not sure exactly when I'll join the boys, but we'll stay at the Burrow as long as we can, hopefully long enough so we can attend Bill and Fleur's wedding."

Minerva's heart leaps as she thinks about what Hermione is saying. She’s happy to hear they will meet at least one more time after she leaves Hogwarts. "Your parents....will you tell them?"

"No, I...I think it may be best if I do not tell them. In fact, I’m thinking of sending them away while I am helping Harry. It will only be a matter of time before they’re targeted, and they cannot hope to defend themselves."

Minerva takes a moment before replying. "I see. What will stop anyone from finding them once you send them away?"

"I'll send them outside of Europe."

"Will they agree to your plan?" Minerva stares at Hermione, knowing she’s not revealing everything. Over the years she’s become quite adept at reading her.

"Um, well...perhaps it’s best if we leave this alone." 

"You plan to alter their memories, don't you?" Minerva’s eyes widen, the audacity of Hermione's plan stunning her.

"I need to protect them," Hermione answers defensively. "And if I do not come back to lift the charm, then at least they will not know I that ever existed or that they lost a daughter while fighting to save our world."

The emotions shining through bright brown eyes implore Minerva to understand. "You will come back," she says, her voice firm. Hermione simply cannot die. She is one of the smartest, cleverest witches Minerva has ever known, not to mention compassionate, loyal, and brave. Such a light cannot blow out at the first sign of wind. Minerva will not allow it.

"I should go."

Absently, Minerva notes the hour is getting late. She walks Hermione to the door and pauses, staying her with a hand on her shoulder, as she gazes into tumultuous eyes.

"Try the spell tomorrow night. I will feel better knowing we have a way to communicate while you are away."

This time it is Hermione who steps forward to claim a hug, and Minerva breathes in the smell of sweetness, of strength, of determination. Affection flows through her, burning behind her eyelids and pricking her heart. "Hermione, be safe," Minerva whispers, feeling a thrill shoot through her as she utters this wonderful witch's given name.

"I will," Hermione whispers just as softly, her breath warming the crook of Minerva's neck, causing her to shiver. They pull back, and Minerva squeezes her hand before opening the door.

Minerva continues to stare at the closed door long after Hermione has left.  


	2. July and August 1997

July 1997

Hermione gets ready for bed while her mind whirls. Her belongings are mostly packed, and now her thoughts leap from topic to topic, emotions threatening to overflow. In two days she will leave Hogwarts and perhaps never step foot in it again, the place where she met her best friends, learned how to come into her own power, and experienced how others' jealousy can undermine her strength if given the opportunity. Her natural curiosity and drive to learn have gotten her into trouble many times over the years, and her natural caution has been overruled by her strong emotions on many of those occasions. All told, though, she doesn’t regret a single moment of the time she has spent here. She will miss it.

And she will miss Minerva.

Shivering as her mind caresses the name, Hermione has mixed emotions about the way they will keep in touch. Over this past year her feelings for the enigmatic, brilliant witch have changed in a profound way. What if she’s able to see the dreams Hermione cannot control, those where they interact more freely, more informally, more affectionately? It’s a mortifying thought. She cannot help but believe such fantasies would horrify her mentor, and Hermione doesn’t want to imagine losing the connection they currently share.

Sighing, Hermione wonders whether taking a dreamless drought would solve the problem. Or would that block the waking dream state? Hermione doesn’t want to chance it. She can only hope that nothing embarrassing will reveal itself or that the object of such inappropriate fantasies will view them as the typical imaginings of a young lady infatuated with someone she respects.

Once ready to sleep, Hermione says firmly while waving her wand, " _Insomnius inconnivus_ Minerva McGonagall." A swell of magic rolls through Hermione, and she grins. She’s curious to experience what it will feel like when their minds touch. Tremors overtake her body, and Hermione shakes her head, bemused by how excited she feels.

Sleep comes quickly, and Hermione feels her consciousness float on soft waves. At first she sees nothing. It’s similar to when the early morning light kisses her eyelids while she fights consciousness. Light seeps in, and she realizes no reason exists for her to keep her eyes closed. They flutter open, and she looks around with a keen eye.

She’s standing in a room she has never seen before. A fire crackles in a large stone hearth, illuminating the room invitingly. Various overstuffed chairs and a long, leather lounge are positioned toward it on gleaming hardwood floors. Hermione feels at peace immediately—the warm, rich color tones envelop her as would a warm hand holding hers. She is pulled forward by the implicit invitation, and Hermione's eyes devour built-in bookcases filled with hardcover books, intricately carved wooden furniture, and thick carpets. Luscious red, tawny brown, rich green, and pure white appear throughout the room, and they remind her of the witch she has come to meet.

As she rounds the sofa, Hermione feels the air shift, and she knows before turning that Minerva has joined her. She smiles in greeting, and stops all action when she sees how beautiful the elder witch is while wearing casual clothing. Her school robes are gone, as is her distinguished pointy hat. She wears black slacks and a black blouse. And her hair— _Merlin help me!_ —her hair is loose, flowing over strong shoulders and down her back. Hermione feels her fingers twitch with the instinctive desire to run them through those thick, lustrous locks. She blinks several times while she drags those thoughts away and concentrates on the compelling feeling of sharing mind space.

Looking down, Hermione notices that her clothes are also casual, although she is not attired in the sleepwear she donned before going to bed. Instead, she wears olive jeans and a mauve silk blouse. Her hair is similarly loose, and she can only hope it does not appear too unruly.

"Where are we?" Hermione asks, as she watches Minerva approach.

Minerva stops in front of her, a gentle smile gracing her Scottish features, and places a hand on Hermione's shoulder, which burns straight into her soul. Hermione feels the shudder run through her, but she ignores her body's reaction, hoping Minerva will, too.

"We are in my ancestral home. This is my favorite room in the entire manor. I have spent countless hours sitting in front of the fire while reading. During the school holidays, I return to it and become rejuvenated by the peacefulness I find here."

"Oh," Hermione says. She is honored to be given this glimpse into Minerva's world, and she wonders whether she created this environment where they could meet. Do they have such control?

"I thought you might feel comfortable here, so I visualized it directly before falling asleep," Minerva murmurs.

Hermione scrunches her eyebrows together, perplexed. _Can she hear my thoughts? Merlin, I hope not!_ A gentle laugh interrupts her musings.

"Hermione, I cannot read your mind. I merely guessed your thoughts. Come—let's sit down for a bit." Hermione sinks onto the lounge and sighs. It’s as comfortable as she imagined mere moments ago. Minerva sits next to her and locks onto Hermione's eyes with a penetrating stare. The gaze fills the room as surely as do the sound of solace, the smell of warmth, and the taste of familiarity, suffusing every nook and cranny. These few moments of peacefulness, Hermione treasures them. All the more so since she is sharing them with Minerva—is experiencing them because of her.

"I like this room. Thank you for sharing it with me." She realizes belatedly that her hand is covering Minerva's, and she watches with fascination as emerald eyes reflect the wavering flickers of firelight.

"I cannot imagine a better person to allow into my inner sanctum. I trust you, Hermione. I hope you will allow yourself to trust me, too. Even if you are unable to provide me with exact information concerning where you are or what you’re doing, I do hope you will confide in me how you are and whether I can help you in any way." Minerva turns her hand over and intertwines their fingers.

It feels right. They fit perfectly.

"I do trust you, Minerva." Hermione takes a deep breath, stopping when she observes Minerva's body tremble, as if a spell is rippling through her. Hermione cocks her head. "I think I may trust you more than anyone else I know. You have always treated me as if I were important, as if my opinions and feelings were worthy of your consideration. I am grateful to you, and here you are wanting to help me when you have so much to worry about, so many burdens to carry."

Tears begin to blur Hermione's eyes as she becomes overwhelmed by what lies ahead for her and the boys. _How will we find the Horcruxes? How will we destroy them? How can we even hope to defeat Voldemort?_

Familiar arms pull her into a tight hug. Hermione is soothed by the rumbling of Minerva's distinctive burr beneath her ear. "We will get through these dark times together. I am quite certain that keeping in touch will strengthen me immeasurably. So you see, Hermione, these communications will not be made for your benefit only. I need them, too."

Nodding against Minerva's chest, Hermione tries to ignore how soft the blouse fabric is against her cheek or the obvious curve of breast which serves as her temporary haven from an uncertain future. She wraps her arms around Minerva's waist and closes her eyes, allowing the powerful embrace to placate her. Minerva begins to rock her, and Hermione tightens her hold.

"Hermione, when we are done with a meeting in this realm, we need only visualize being back in bed asleep. Before we do that," Minerva's breath flirts with Hermione's ear, "I want to set up some type of schedule. How about we meet once every other week on this night? And if one of us cannot appear, we will try again the next night and so on until we do meet."

"Yes," Hermione mumbles, "that sounds good to me." She feels a smile touch her head and imagines thin lips brushing over her crown.

"Thank you, my dear. I shall look forward to our meetings. Now, I think it is time to bid you adieu. Good night, Hermione."

"Good night, Minerva. Thank you." Yawning, Hermione pictures her bed in the Gryffindor tower and closes her eyes. She can still feel strong arms around her, and she muses on how good they feel. The light fades, and Hermione willingly sinks into the darkness.

***       

August 1997

The tent is filled with people from the wizarding world, everyone hoping to place aside if only for a few hours the looming threat Voldemort and his followers present. Guests mingle, laughter and loud conversations competing with dance music. Smiling slightly at this brief reprieve from sorrow and stress, Minerva allows her eyes to search for the witch she recently has found herself caring for far more than is seemly. Sighing softly, Minerva cannot deny it—Hermione is the sole reason she is here.

Knowing that she, along with Harry and Ron, will begin their quest soon, Minerva cannot forego the opportunity of seeing the younger witch in person, if only for a few moments. They have met three times in their dreamscapes, the last time three days ago. Each time has thrown Minerva's emotions into a maelstrom of confusion, yearning, and joy. They connect in a way she has never experienced—the layers of warmth and companionship that form the fabric of their meetings are irresistible. As are the hugs they have shared. Passionate by nature, Minerva learned long ago how to divorce her desires from her duty. Yet, she feels unequal to the task of denying her burgeoning feelings for this captivating witch.

Spying movement across the way encapsulated in folds of crimson red, Minerva loses her breath. This is not a young girl. At all. As Hermione approaches, Minerva cannot deny how desirable, how absolutely entrancing this woman is. Her eyes burn, and she is unable to break their stare even as her mind commands her to smile indifferently and treat the beguiling witch as merely another student.

Hermione seems similarly entranced. She stops well within Minerva's personal space and gazes at her. Minerva wants to pull the woman close, to catalog the feel of those curves touching her body. She wants to run her hands through tamed locks and release them from their captivity. She wants...she wants too much, and the avalanche of emotions crashing over her and forcing her to acknowledge why she desires to remain in contact with Hermione makes it impossible for her to hide her desires. Before she can regain control of her feelings, she watches coffee-colored eyes widen in recognition. Unbelievably, those same eyes darken with passion, and strong arms pull her into a tight embrace.

"Minerva," is breathed against her ear, and she shivers at the implications of this moment. Trying to pull back so as to not succumb to her emotions before Merlin and everyone surrounding them, she is stopped by fervent words. "No. Please don't withdraw from me. Just for a moment, let me feel you in my arms. I will need this memory to carry me through our separation."

Melting into the embrace, Minerva allows the closeness, her reservations easily subdued in favor of providing Hermione whatever she needs. Her eyes close as she breathes in Hermione's distinctive perfume, surrounded by the scent of vanilla. She is unable to smell Hermione's heavenly scent when they meet in their dreams. She must capitalize on this moment to imprint Hermione's luscious scent upon her memory. She must.

Finally, Minerva pulls back enough to look into soft eyes. "Hermione, it is good to see you," Minerva’s Scottish lilt betrays strong feelings. Hermione's resulting smile lifts her spirits, and she cannot help but smile in return. "You look stunning, my dear," she murmurs.

"Thank you. You also...you look absolutely beautiful," Hermione says, her eyes gleaming brightly even within the subdued lighting that is sprinkled throughout the tent. "I want...I wish," she starts, only to stop, a helpless look on her face. "Let's go outside for some air," she suggests, an edge of desperateness compelling Minerva to nod.

She is feeling a bit desperate herself. The reality of their situation, knowing she may never feel Hermione in her arms again, tears at her. Hermione takes her hand and pulls her toward an exit. Before they leave the tent, a ball of light appears in the middle, and flashes of horrendous images reflecting people dying stops them in their tracks. "The Ministry has fallen, The Minister is dead," reverberates throughout the reception in Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice, delivered through his Patronus.

"Oh my God!" Hermione cries out, her hand covering her mouth. Explosions begin to sound outside the tent, and people shout and dodge as Death Eaters invade what should have been a place where they could celebrate the joining of two people in love.

"Go," Minerva thunders, her wand out even as she pushes Hermione behind her. "Find the boys." Deflecting a hex, she shoots a look Hermione's way.

"I don't want to leave you," Hermione yells above the screams and evil cackles which fill the air.

"You must!" Minerva shouts. "Stay safe, Hermione. Do what you must. And come back to me."

"I will! Minerva, I swear I will. Until then, I will see you in my dreams." Hermione darts away, her words ringing in Minerva's ears.

"Our dreams," Minerva whispers as she watches the Golden Trio disapparate. "In our dreams."


	3. September 1997

Anxiously, Hermione casts the well-known spell and slides onto the cot to sleep. She has given the cursed locket to Harry. Ron is sulking on the other side of the tent, the sound of the radio droning its endless list of victims as he listens for names of family and friends.

They invaded the Ministry nearly two weeks ago to retrieve the locket Dolores Umbridge wore. Although the corrupt Head of Magical Law Enforcement might not have known what was hanging around her neck, the locket is actually a Horcrux storing a piece of Voldemort's black soul. And now, as they keep it within their possession while trying to find a way to destroy it, its evil properties are leaching out, staining the soul of whoever wears it with its toxic energy.

With her last thoughts while conscious, Hermione pictures Minerva's manor, needing to feel the comfort it provides. This is where they meet nearly every time they enter their mutual dreamscape. For one meeting Hermione had visualized her home, but remembering how she altered her parents' memories so that they would not remember her before she sent them to live in Australia tainted what had always been her safe haven. She would not visit her former home again—in her dreamscape or in person.

Their last visit occurred before the start of the new school year. Minerva's concern over her students overshadowed any of Hermione's worries. The Ministry appointed Severus Snape as Headmaster as well as added Amycus Carrow as the Dark Arts professor and Alecto Carrow as the Muggle Studies professor. All three are known to be Death Eaters, and Snape's presence at Hogwarts is particularly distressing to Minerva since he killed Dumbledore. Regardless of her rage, Minerva refuses to leave the students unprotected, choosing to grimly remain at her post as Deputy Headmistress.

"What have you done?!" Minerva greets Hermione harshly. Hermione would be worried if she could not plainly identify the distress mingled with anger in sharp emerald eyes.

"I don't know what you mean," Hermione hedges as she stands in front of Minerva.

"Don't play coy with me, Hermione! I cannot believe you and the boys infiltrated the Ministry of Magic. What could have possibly prompted you to take such a risk?" Minerva demands, her hands landing heavily on Hermione's shoulders.

"You know I cannot answer you, but it could not be avoided," Hermione says in a calm voice, although it pains her to know Minerva is upset because of something she has done.

"Are you saying you could not have retrieved whatever person or item you sought after hours or outside of the Ministry? Outside of such a public place, a place teeming with Voldemort's followers? So impetuous! So utterly foolish!" Minerva raves as she moves away and begins to pace in front of the lounge. 

"No. We could not. I am sorry if our actions worried you. Please, Minerva," Hermione says as she steps into Minerva's path, stopping her midstride. "How are you?" she asks softly.

"How am I? I am worried sick about you. Have you any idea what the Ministry will do to you if you are caught?" Minerva asks as she rubs the back of her neck.

"Actually, Harry saw a file of me at the Ministry where they have categorized me as a very high risk. I am being tracked. He said there were no files of him or Ron, but Harry is already branded as Undesirable No. 1, so it's not like he’s any better off than I am."

"Hermione, it is worse now that you were identified as breaking into the Ministry. They are quite embarrassed by what happened, and they will not rest until they find you," Minerva states vehemently.

"How is that any different than two weeks ago?" Hermione retorts.

"Because they have issued a warrant for your arrest under the pretense of truancy for failure to attend Hogwarts while you are under the age of majority. If they catch you, they can send you to Azkaban," Minerva nearly shouts.

Freezing as her eyes widen in surprise, Hermione can hardly understand the implications of such an act. "Wh-what? Truancy? How...how can they do that? Isn't the age of majority seventeen? Isn't it up to the school to report truancy?"

"Yes, in the wizarding community it is seventeen, but in the Muggle world and in your case in England, the age of majority is eighteen. As for being reported," Minerva grimaces, "some of Hogwarts' faculty have chosen to adhere to an agenda set by those currently controlling the Ministry."

"Oh my God," Hermione says hollowly as she sits gingerly in a chair. "But I am turning eighteen this month," Hermione says as she looks up, hope in her voice.

"They are basing the charges on your failure to report to school when term began," Minerva says. A heavy silence settles between them before Minerva's sorrow-laden voice breaks it several minutes later. "There's more, I am afraid. The Ministry has attempted to contact your parents since they are also responsible for any delinquent acts you commit. Of course, they cannot find them. They are insinuating something has happened to them, and that their disappearance is due to your nefarious actions."

"That's, that's absurd!" Hermione sputters, flabbergasted. "I would never hurt them!"

"I know." Minerva kneels before Hermione and takes her hand. "And then there are the ramifications of the criminal charges for truancy. You are automatically expelled from Hogwarts, effectively negating all the hard work you have devoted to your studies over the years."

Hermione's eyes fill with tears, and she cries at the unfairness of the charges and the evilness of Voldemort's followers. Only Minerva's arms holding her tightly help her to shore up her wavering determination to never abandon their quest to destroy the Horcruxes and to defeat Voldemort. Although it seems her world is crashing down around her, Hermione knows Minerva cares about her. And that helps her to shore up her flagging spirits, too.

"I...I am sorry for falling apart," Hermione sniffles as she pulls back, suddenly quite embarrassed for succumbing to such weakness. She ducks her head as she angrily swipes at her wet eyes. Strong, long fingers underneath her chin lift her face, and although she wants to close her eyes and avoid Minerva's penetrating and no doubt pitying look, Hermione takes a deep breath and meets green eyes with her own.

"Pish posh. I will hear none of that. You are on the run, facing incredible odds, away from your family and those who...those who love you," Minerva says in a voice so tender that tears spring forth once more to Hermione's eyes. "And now you have just found out from someone you trust that one of the most defining aspects of your life has been taken away from you," Minerva says, compassion shining from her moist eyes. "You have given up so much, and you are so young. I hate that this has happened, that I can do nothing to help you."

Hermione places her hand over the one now cupping her cheek. "Minerva, I made this decision, and I must deal with the consequences. This is not your responsibility. I could be eighty instead of eighteen, and it would not change my course. And as for having to leave everyone," Hermione removes Minerva's hand from her face and kisses the palm before squeezing it gently, "I have you."

"Yes," Minerva says in a near whisper, a slight smile on her face, "you have me."

"And you have me," Hermione says just as softly. "I know you have decided to shield me from the events occurring at Hogwarts, but it is not necessary. I want to be here for you, just as you are for me. Please trust me."

"I do, my dear. I do."  

Searching those suddenly expressive emerald eyes, Hermione wonders when the walls came down. She could never read emotion in the normally stalwart witch's eyes before, yet now they clearly reflect worry, sorrow, and fondness. Smiling, Hermione nods. She believes Minerva.

"Come over to the sofa with me," Minerva prompts, pulling Hermione up from her chair with their clasped hands, moaning softly as her other hand moves to her lower back. "Just wait until you are my age," she mutters irritably. They settle on the comfortable leather sofa.

"I can only hope to age as gracefully as you have," Hermione says. At Minerva's derisive chuckle, Hermione continues. "No, I mean it. You are beautiful. Inside and out. I realize that in your role you must create distance between yourself and the students, and they misconstrue that necessity, sometimes in hurtful ways. That's why I am so honored that you trust me, that you have opened up to me. I hope you know I trust you, too."

"Thank you, Hermione. I do."

They sit back shoulder to shoulder and gaze at the crackling fire silently, hands still clasped firmly. Hermione is happy to not talk. She knows that once she wakes, she will return to worrying about so much—the boys, destroying the Horcrux in their possession, food, shelter, remaining hidden from all those looking for them, finding more of the Horcruxes. The list is endless and daunting.

"When is your birthday?" Minerva's distinctive lilt breaks the silence.

"On the nineteenth. I expect we will not bother to celebrate it, of course. Ron, he got splinched during our escape last week, and we have been struggling to find food and medicine. It's not like we can just enter a place to get what we need." Hermione trails off, realizing she sounds like she feels sorry for herself. And perhaps she does.

"Let me help you," Minerva pleads.

"You know I cannot. I won't place you in such danger. No doubt, your actions are being monitored, and if you leave food somewhere, they will investigate. Thank Merlin they cannot track these visits," Hermione replies.

"I will give this some thought. I am sure a way exists," Minerva states, determination ringing throughout the room.  

Darkness seems to extend out from the stone walls, reaching for them with its shadowy fingers. Hermione feels exhaustion flow through her, but she fights it, not willing to leave Minerva just yet. She feels movement beside her and turns her head to look at her companion.

An elegant hand cups her cheek as soothing words caress her ears. "We will celebrate your birthday when we are reunited outside of this dreamscape, for I am sure you have noticed our senses are severely limited here. Until that day, and that day will come, allow me to wish you a happy birthday. I want you to know how immensely glad I am that you are a part of my world."

Before Hermione can react, thin lips brush gently across Hermione's parted ones. She gasps at the contact, her eyes fluttering closed. All she can concentrate on are the slight pressure of Minerva's mouth against hers and the warm thumb rubbing soothingly across her cheekbone.

When she awakens several hours later, Hermione realizes she is smiling. Those few precious moments felt so wonderfully real, and she can hardly wait to experience Minerva's lips touching hers in person when her senses will relay the taste of Minerva's breath and her alluring scent in exquisite detail.

And in the meantime she will relive their shared dream kiss to soothe her anxieties and encourage her to not give up.   


	4. October 1997

As soon as Hermione joins her, Minerva knows something is terribly wrong. She has noticed the strain Hermione has borne over the last few months, of course, but tonight Hermione is shaking with emotion.

"What's happened?" Minerva asks.

"Ron left." Hermione’s eyes are bright with tears, and her voice rings with betrayal.

Disappointment makes Minerva momentarily speechless as she stares at Hermione. _How could he leave his best friends? How could he leave Hermione?_ She has a mind to find the Weasley boy and take him to task. The pure immaturity of his actions when the stakes are so high—so many lives hanging in the balance. Not just Harry's and Hermione's lives but countless others who are relying on them to help break Voldemort's hold on the wizarding world.

"No," Minerva whispers.

"Yes! I can hardly believe it. We've been fighting, especially him and Harry, but we knew it was due to the—" Hermione interrupts herself, balling her fists in frustration. "But then he made ridiculous accusations. He accused Harry of not having a plan and me of _liking_ Harry." Hermione shakes with anger, tears spitting from her eyes as do the next words. "He is so far off! Harry is like my brother, and I thought Ron knew I felt the same way about him."

Hermione turns toward the fire, wrapping her arms tightly around her middle as if to hold herself together. Minerva aches for her. She steps forward, pulling Hermione back into her body and holding her securely while resting her head on a trembling shoulder. "I am so sorry, my dear. I can try to find him, if you wish."

"What's the point? Even if he comes to his senses, he won't be able to find us," Hermione says bitterly as she leans into Minerva's body. They stand silently, and Minerva can only hope she is somehow providing Hermione will some form of solace.  Hermione whispers, "I don't understand what's happened."

"Don't you?" Minerva muses softly. "He is in love with you. I have watched it play out over the last couple of years, and at his brother's wedding, he could not take his eyes off of you."

"But he knows I don't return his feelings," Hermione objects as she shakes her head, soft tresses brushing against Minerva's chin.

"You have told him as much?" Minerva challenges gently.

"Well, no. But I have never given him a reason to believe I feel the same." Hermione sighs, her shoulders rounding as she once more leans into Minerva's body.

"It does not take much to live on hope, not when it comes to matters of the heart. Shared moments, a smile, a touch—like any person in love, he will hold each interaction close to his heart and choose to believe he has a chance until you tell him otherwise. If you do care for him, you will tell him the truth when you next see him."

Laughing darkly, Hermione mutters, "It's more likely I will be too busy hexing him to tell him I cannot possibly love him because I am in love with—" Hermione coughs. "Um, that is, I view him as a brother."

Goosebumps break out on Minerva's arms as the meaning of Hermione's words sinks in. "Hermione?" When she says nothing, Minerva turns Hermione around, keeping one arm around her waist while using her other hand to lift a tucked chin. Minerva searches a pale face that suddenly suffuses with redness and shifting eyes that jump everywhere as if seeking escape, gazing until dark brown eyes finally settle on hers. She rejoices when she sees the truth staring hesitantly back at her.

Not wanting Hermione to fear a rejection that Minerva's heart has acknowledged it will not provide, Minerva slowly leans in, anticipation nearly breaking her resolve to keep a tight rein on her desire to give this woman everything while taking all that is so clearly being offered. This kiss is so much more than the brief brushing of lips they shared weeks ago. Desire pulses through Minerva, demanding she taste more fully this beautiful woman in her arms. 

But therein lies the problem. She cannot taste Hermione's breath. They are in the dreamscape, and these moments of closeness are mere facsimiles of what they will truly share when they are reunited. Even now as Hermione groans into her mouth and parts her lips, Minerva is aware that she cannot truly memorize the exquisite sensory overload occurring because so much is missing. Her scent, her taste—missing. With that in mind, Minerva does not yield to the temptation of entering that lush mouth with her tongue for a more intimate connection, not willing to cheat herself of the full experience.

She can still feel strong arms around her waist, though. She can still hear breathy moans and sweet murmurings as their lips part and Minerva slides hers down a straining neck muscle. She can still feel the rapid fluttering of Hermione's pulse and see the flushed coloring covering her face and neck and upper chest. And as fingers weave through her unbound hair, holding her close while she noses open the vee of the button-down shirt to nibble on an evocative protruding collarbone, Minerva commits to memory all of these exquisite moments.

Although she does not want to stop, Minerva knows now is not the time to explore the supple body molding itself so enticingly against her own. It is too fast, too soon. They have so much to discuss and so many challenges to overcome before they can truly be together. And Minerva now understands how high the stakes have become. 

With a final kiss to addictive lips, Minerva murmurs, "Let's sit down." She leads Hermione by the hand and holds her closely as they settle on the sofa. "Is there anything I can do? I can leave food for you to retrieve anywhere you wish. Supplies, clothes...Hermione, please let me help you."

Seeing the objections, knowing it is because she does not want Minerva to be in danger, she places a long finger over Hermione's mouth. "Please, think about it before dismissing my offer out of hand. We have found a way to see each other. Surely, two brilliant witches can determine how to get supplies to you without being tracked." She revels in the bright smile her words elicit. "You need not tell me where you are or where you shall go. Instead, we can agree on where I can deliver supplies and the best way for you to retrieve them without detection."

As they bounce ideas back and forth, Minerva delights in how nimble Hermione's mind is. She is exceptional. Minerva can well imagine how Hermione's intelligence, courage, and maturity will take her far. And Minerva desperately wants to be by her side, sharing such experiences, guiding her, loving her. The depth of her feelings surprise her, but they are present, and Minerva will not deny them any longer.

Especially now that she knows how Hermione feels.

With regret, Minerva mentions they should end their visit. She knows Hermione needs sleep, and the increasingly aggressive actions of the Carrows against students who are not purebloods have kept Minerva up too many nights to count. As has become their ritual, they hold each other. This closeness is a gift, one Minerva will not take for granted. Their lives are in danger, and they walk a fine line with those in power.

She has kept the progressively hostile events occurring at Hogwarts out of their conversations not because she does not trust Hermione but rather because she does not want to add more stress. She realizes Hermione is probably doing the exact same thing, however, and Minerva wants to relieve the younger witch of her burdens in any way possible. Smiling softly as she holds the precious woman, Minerva promises herself to find a way to share the ugly truths. She may not be used to opening up to another, but this is Hermione, and she is no doubt taking her lead in how to act when they are together.

Closing her eyes, Minerva relives their earlier kisses. Only she envisions much more. She visualizes them standing together once again, Hermione turning in her arms, her dark eyes so vulnerable, so open. How can Minerva possibly resist pulling her forward to claim one kiss?

Two.

Three.

And oh her deep-throated groan—how it stirs Minerva's blood. Now she noses aside the shirt to nibble on Hermione's collarbone, moaning at how good she tastes. The salty tinge sparks Minerva's desire to taste more. And unlike earlier, she watches a bead of perspiration roll slowly between the valley of enticing breasts, and unable to resist, her fingers unbutton a constrictive shirt so she can lick it up rapturously. The feel and texture of Hermione's flawless skin beneath her fingertips and lips encourage her to taste a heaving upper chest as her hands explore flexing stomach muscles. Her thumbs brush the underside of a lacy bra while Minerva captures parted lips and plunges her tongue into a welcoming mouth. They are both trembling against each other, passions running high, and all Minerva wants to do is make love to this magnificent witch.

A gasp pulls them apart, and Minerva blinks away her discombobulation as she realizes she is once again on the sofa, holding Hermione chastely. Obviously, she has fallen asleep, but she is confused as to why the dreamscape was not broken.

"I...I did not fall asleep. I was thinking about all that is happening and what we discussed. I saw movement by the fire where we were standing earlier. And I saw...us...together," Hermione admits in a hushed voice.

Minerva feels her eyes widen as she realizes what has happened. Clearly Hermione has seen Minerva's dreams, her fantasies where Hermione stars as the leading lady. Minerva does not know what to say. If these dreams have repulsed Hermione, if they have made her reconsider her feelings for Minerva...

"Is that what you want?" Hermione asks tremulously.

Minerva looks at her bemused, wondering whether Hermione heard her unvoiced, frantic thoughts. She certainly does _not_ want Hermione to reconsider. Staring into dilated eyes, though, it dawns on Minerva that Hermione is questioning the contents of the dream. In fact, she looks aroused by what she witnessed. It makes Minerva want to throw caution away and finish what their doppelgängers began.

"Yes," Minerva breathes, gratified to feel gentle lips at the base of her throat, a benediction.

"Me too." A curly head rests against Minerva's chest with a sigh, and the elder witch runs her fingers through them lovingly. "So much."

"Our time will come," Minerva says, her burr caressing the woman in her arms, feeling her emotions settle with the certainly that her fantasies will become reality.

"And for now we have our dreams," Hermione says, her smile resting against Minerva's skin. Hermione's breath evens out as sleep finally claims her, and Minerva follows her, her mind agreeing wholeheartedly that her dreams will sustain her. As will these precious moments.


	5. November 1997

Shivering as she leans against a tree, blanket covering her bent legs and a book opened over her knees, Hermione sits on the frozen ground during the early morning dawn. The ground is covered with frost, and as the sun rises over the horizon, she feels a melancholy mood envelop her as surely as do the sun's weak rays. She pulls her scarf tighter around her neck, tucking it securely into the collar of her coat, and tugs her knit hat over her ears. The wind has died down, but the temperature dropped during the night, and she is chilled. Hermione is tempted to whisper a warming charm, but she and Harry have agreed to avoid using magic whenever possible, not wanting their magical signatures to attract unwanted attention.

With an irritated chuff that produces a stream of visible condensation, Hermione scans the pages in front of her. _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ is a book on Horcruxes that she summoned from Dumbledore's office before she left Hogwarts in July. Although the subject matter makes her sick to her stomach, it is essential she understand what Voldemort has done so they can find the Horcruxes and stop him. He is obviously a madman, driven by lust for immortality and power.

A Horcrux can only be created when a person murders another. The murderer encases a fragment of his malignant soul in an object at the moment of the victim's death. Killing damages the soul, and trapping a splintering part of it causes unstableness in the remaining part of the soul. This is the most evil type of dark magic, damaging the person to the point where the soul can be lost and the person dehumanized. Only one other person successfully created a Horcrux: Herpo the Foul. Thinking of how many Voldemort made, Hermione cannot imagine his soul can be saved. Picturing Voldemort's face in her mind's eye, Hermione shivers again as a different type of coldness sweeps through her.

Dumbledore told Harry he believed Voldemort created six Horcruxes. It seems unbelievable. Horrifying. The thought of splitting one's soul once, never mind so many times—it explains why Voldemort is so crazy, anyway. Obviously, with each split he has become less stable. And then there is that whole component of Voldemort resurrecting his evil, tattered soul to add to the mix. Hermione sighs.

Harry destroyed one of the Horcruxes already and Dumbledore destroyed one. They have a third one in their possession. Three more. But there seems no rhyme or reason as to where Voldemort stored his evil soul. How can they possibly hope to find the other Horcruxes?

"Morning," a raspy voice breaks through her thoughts. Looking up, Hermione smiles at Harry. He passes her a mug of tea. "Here. This will warm you up." He looks across the lifeless plain, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

"Thanks," Hermione says as she takes a long sip, appreciating the gesture. "How did you sleep?"

Harry continues to stare off into the still wilderness. "Okay." He shrugs. "I just, I wish I knew what to do. I feel like I’m letting everyone down. Letting you down."

"No, Harry," Hermione interrupts firmly. "I knew what I was signing on for. You have to believe that we will find a way. Besides, we couldn't stay at Hogwarts. We might be dead by now or in Azkaban if we had."

"Yeah, well, it's just, I feel like we're missing something. Dumbledore wouldn't have just left us with no clues at all. He had faith in us," Harry says passionately.

"But Harry, he didn't know he wouldn't be around to help. No matter how great a man he was, he didn't know he would be murdered on that night," Hermione says softly.

"Didn't he? He left us all something in his will, things to help us," Harry muses.

"Help us!" Hermione scoffs. "A children's book, a snitch, and a magical flashlight. Really, Harry! Why can't you just accept that he didn't know he was going to be murdered by Snape? He trusted him and was betrayed, just like Ron betrayed us."

Harry swings his head toward Hermione as the words leave her lips. They stare at each other, sadness, bitterness, and dejection weighing them down. Hermione thinks of Minerva and takes solace in knowing that at least they have her in their corner.

As a matter of fact, they worked out how to get supplies to Hermione and Harry during their last dreamscape. By this time tomorrow, they will have food, clothing, water, and healing potions in their possession. Hermione is not sure whether to divulge to Harry where such a bounty will have originated. She is afraid Harry will become angry at their unconventional way of keeping in touch. Still, Minerva has given permission for Hermione to reveal their meetings, mentioning that he may see it as an advantage.

"Harry," Hermione says tentatively. His face crinkles with concern and he squats next to her so that they are close to each other.

"What is it, Hermione?"

"I...I’ve been in contact with someone," she begins.

"What?! Hermione! We could get caught. How did you do it? By owl? Patronus? How long has this been going on?"

Raising her hands in a placating gesture, Hermione says in a soothing voice, "We won't get caught. We arranged it just before we left Hogwarts. It's through a spell where we can meet while asleep. That's how I've gotten information on what's been happening."

"Is it Ginny? Is she okay?" Harry asks, his eyes widening. It is the first time she has seen him so fired up since Ron left them.

"No, it's not. It's Professor McGonagall. We meet every other week. I can ask her about Ginny if you want." Hermione watches closely as Harry digests the information. She knows Harry has been worried about Ginny. She has seen him staring at the Marauder's Map for hours late at night several times, a look of longing on his face.

On the terrible night Ron left them, they overheard Griphook, Dean Thomas, and a few others who were on the run from the Ministry talking while near their camp. Ginny, Neville, and Luna had attempted to steal what they thought was the Gryffindor sword. In fact, it was a wizard-made duplicate. Snape sent the sword to Gringott's to keep it safe, and Griphook immediately noticed that it was a fake. Griphook chose not to inform the Death Eaters of this _little_ detail.

That was a stroke of luck: overhearing the conversation. Not only did they learn of the fake Gryffindor sword now stored in a Gringott vault while the true sword lay hidden elsewhere, but they also learned how Dumbledore used the real sword to destroy a Horcrux stored in the Gaunt family ring.

"Professor McGonagall?" Harry asks slowly. Hermione nods but remains silent. "How did this occur?" He sits down next to Hermione, and she opens the blanket more so they can huddle together under it.

Turning her head toward Harry, Hermione can see the curiosity dancing in his eyes. She takes a deep breath, reminding herself he does not know, could not know of her deep feelings for Minerva. "The day Dumbledore died, I went to see her. I wanted to convey my condolences and let her know we would not be returning to school for our last year."

"Hermione! How could you—" Harry begins, but Hermione interrupts him.

"Harry, please! Don't you trust my judgment? She would never betray us. And I needed to tell her. Wonder if we die? Who will finish what we've started? I haven't actually told her we are hunting Horcruxes, but I'm sure she's figured it out. She is the most powerful witch alive. And she is on our side." Hermione stares at Harry earnestly, wanting him to understand, to accept her reasoning.

He stares at her speculatively but does not say anything. Instead, he looks down at the blanket and picks at its frayed material. Hermione leans her head back against the tree and closes her eyes for a moment while she waits for him to share his thoughts. For several minutes they sit silently.

"You've always had a soft spot for her," Harry says slowly. "And over the last couple of years, you've become close with her, much like I was with Dumbledore. Maybe even more." His eyes search Hermione's, and she withstands the scrutiny patiently, waiting for him to finish. "I get it, Hermione." He takes her hand and squeezes it gently before letting it go.

Expelling a large breath in relief, Hermione smiles. "I'm glad. She has been a great help to me. In fact, we have arranged for her to get some supplies to us. But don't worry. We worked it out so it will not be tracked," Hermione says quickly when Harry's face reflects worry.

"How? I'm sure she's being watched. They know she is against Voldemort. It's only a matter of time before they make a move against her. They just need proof, and her helping us may be enough to send her to Azkaban," Harry says, running a hand through his unruly hair.

"Don't you think I know that? I used those very arguments when she first mentioned keeping in touch, but the spell cannot be traced since our meetings occur in our dreams. When she offered the supplies, I said the same things you’re saying now. But, elves cannot be tracked. Her house-elf, Elsa, will deliver the supplies once we have apparated to a new spot. In fact, I will be meeting with Elsa in the dreamscape tonight instead of Minerva to give her the location. That way, if anyone tries to examine Minerva's memories, the location will not be revealed." Hermione’s speech quickens as she unveils the plan.

"Minerva?" Harry says with a raised eyebrow and quirk of the lips.

Feeling heat envelop her, Hermione is quite sure she’s blushing. "Um, yeah. Well, she is no longer my professor, and as you guessed, we have become closer."

"Close enough to use first names, at any rate," Harry teases before gazing off toward the distance.

Not knowing what to say, Hermione bites her lip. She is not ready to share the depth of her feelings for Minerva with Harry. It is too new, too undefined and raw.

"I miss her."

Just managing to edit herself, Hermione does not sputter Minerva's name in surprise. After a moment's reflection, it becomes clear to her that he is talking about Ginny. Cocking her head to the side, she studies her friend. His face is like an open book, and she reads the yearning he feels for Ginny. It mirrors her own feelings to see Minerva, to be in her presence, to hold her in her arms.

"I know." And she does. By the look he gives her, he seems to understand that she is not just saying the words. They smile ruefully at each other. He nods and holds out his hand. She understands that he wants to take the locket. She removes it from around her neck and feels lighter immediately. When she places it in his hand, he wraps his fingers around hers for a moment.

"Hermione, you can talk to me about anything, you know. You are like my sister, and nothing will change that." His eyes shine with affection and acceptance.

Tears spring to Hermione's eyes as the import of his words sink in. She nods. "I know. Same here." They smile again at each other before Hermione rises and stretches. "I'm going to take a nap. Wake me up if you need anything." She waits for him to nod and then walks into their tent, glad to get out of the cold wind. She’s exhausted from night watch. They take turns, but it is hard to see around them in the darkness, and every sound seems to originate from directly behind her, causing Hermione's heart to race as she investigates each creak, snap, and whistle.

Tonight she will give Elsa their new location, and in a week she will see Minerva again. Such thoughts soothe Hermione, and she sinks into a dreamless sleep as soon as her head hits the cot.

***

Standing in front of the crackling fire, Hermione extends her hands toward the heat, palms turned toward the flames. Not that she is chilled. Her actions are more the result of days spent in the cold, barren wilderness. Currently, she feels quite comfortable. She is standing in her favorite dreamscape, that of the sitting room in McGonagall Manor, while waiting for Elsa.

A noise behind her causes Hermione to turn. Elsa walks toward her, a curious look gracing her face.

"Hello, Elsa. Thank you for coming." She notices that the house-elf is wearing a tartan pattern of Scottish design, no doubt reflecting the colors of Minerva's clan. It is also a sign that Elsa is a free elf, and that knowledge warms Hermione's heart.

"My Mistress bids me come to find out wheres I to bring supplies," she replies. "This is hers favorites room."

"Yes. It has become my favorite as well. Someday I hope to visit it in person. After the war." With a mental shake, Hermione continues, "We are in Londonderry, Ireland, at the Giant's Causeway. Thank you for agreeing to deliver everything to us. It will help us so much."

With a bow, Elsa says, "I will deliver it in one hours. I leaves now, but you stay. My Mistress comes to see you."

"Oh!" Hermione exclaims, joyful for the opportunity to see Minerva again so soon. "Okay. Good night, Elsa."

"Good nights." Elsa walks out the door, and Hermione smiles brightly with anticipation.

Movement from the corner of her eye makes her turn. She realizes the movement is coming from some magical photographs on the mantle. _Those are new._ Walking closer, she watches Minerva and herself discussing something. As Hermione's picture self looked down for a moment, a blush touching her cheeks, Minerva looks on with affection shining through her eyes and a small smile gracing her face. _When was this?_

"Ah, I wondered whether you would notice," a welcome voice says.

Warm arms wrap around her from behind, and Hermione sighs with pleasure. It has become harder and harder to wait two weeks in between meetings. She is so glad Minerva has made an exception tonight.

"Who took this picture?" Hermione murmurs, her head resting comfortably on Minerva's shoulder, hands playing with the fingers interlaced over her belly.

"Albus, just weeks before he died. This was not a photograph originally, however. It is from one of his memories that he left with the pensieve in his office. He left several memories which are invaluable to me," her expressive voice making Hermione's heart ache.

The second picture is of Hermione sleeping, her head resting on her crossed arms as she awkwardly bends from her chair to rest on the side of a bed. A hand gently pushes her hair out of her face, and Hermione awakens slowly. The smile that forms on her face is full of relief and love.

"I didn't notice your feelings then. Maybe I wasn't ready to. I certainly was not prepared to confront my own improper feelings for you. But when I look at this moment, taken from my memory just after I awakened, I can see how much you care for me," Minerva says softly.

"I was so scared. If you had died..." Hermione murmurs brokenly. A gentle kiss behind her ear causes Hermione to shiver.

"I understand completely. I worry about you, about the thought of your being captured or worse..."

Hearing Minerva trail off, feeling her arms tighten convulsively, Hermione turns in place so she can look into the older witch's eyes. "I'm right here. And we are being careful." She smiles encouragingly at Minerva.

"Yes, you are," Minerva agrees softly.

Long, thin fingers trace Hermione's face reverently, slowly grazing her skin and stalling on her lips. Hermione kisses fingers which shake slightly, her eyes flicking to cloudy green ones. She takes the hand in her own, turning it so she can kiss the palm, the inner wrist, the forearm. Hearing Minerva small moan inflames Hermione. "I'm right here," she whispers as she pulls the woman closer. "Right here."

Their lips meet and as during the last two times they have shared this type of closeness, Hermione feels a connection that transcends danger, worry, and sorrow. They take their time, lips brushing softly at first, then pressing more firmly. The heady feel of those lips moving against hers rips a groan from Hermione. She wraps her arms around Minerva tightly, loving how their bodies fit together so well.

As has become customary, Minerva's hair hangs freely down her back. Hermione weaves her hand through it, loving the silky texture. She begins to rub gently at the base of Minerva's skull, swallowing her resulting moans eagerly. The need to feel more, to get closer, churns through Hermione, and her body shakes with the force of her desire.

"Hermione," Minerva whispers, their foreheads resting together as they breathe in sorely-needed air. "Merlin, what you bring out in me. I never could have imagined." She hums her approval when Hermione begins running her hands up and down her back soothingly. "Hmm, that feels wonderful. You are wonderful."

Smiling, Hermione pulls away enough so they can stare into each other's eyes. "You are the wonderful one." She raises a hand to cup a defined cheek lovingly. "I am so glad you are here tonight. I didn't expect it, but I find that I need to see you, that it helps me to keep focused. Thank you, Minerva, for all you've done."

"Darling," she murmurs, pulling Hermione in for a long hug.

Oh, how Hermione wishes they could remain together this way. She knows, though, that they cannot. She needs sleep, as does Minerva.

"How is Ginny doing?" Hermione asks.

Sighing, Minerva shakes her head, worry lines covering her forehead. "She’s behaving recklessly. She, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood attempted to steal the Gryffindor sword from the Headmaster's office. So foolish! They were caught, of course. Now they’re serving detention with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest, and they will not be able to travel to Hogsmeade on any trips."

"I wonder what would have possessed them to take such a risk," Hermione muses aloud.

"It is my fault, I fear, and for that I have apologized to them. I did not realize they would act so quickly in response to an off-hand comment I made. You see, I am sure the sword can help you with your goals, and I said as much to them. If I were caught removing it from the office, though, the consequences would be far-reaching. With them, it can be explained as a prank gone awry. As it is, they’re already being watched for some unexplained events against the Carrows. I have advised them to tone down their D.A. activities for a bit, if only until certain eyes turn elsewhere."

Staring at Minerva in shock, Hermione has no idea how to respond. _She knows about Dumbledore's Army? She is helping them to undermine Voldemort's followers?_ "Minerva, you must be more careful!" Hermione grasps strong biceps that flex under her fingers. "If someone heard your conversation, you could be locked up in Azkaban."

"I assure you I am being extremely careful. And I am watching out for their welfare. But, Hermione, if a way exists to help you, I will take it, consequences be damned."

Blazing crystal eyes relay how serious Minerva is. Hermione realizes quite quickly she cannot change the older witch's decision. Nor does she truly want to. It makes her feel better, knowing Minerva is adamant about helping her.

"Right," Hermione mutters.

"Right," Minerva echoes with a small smile. "Come sit with me," she says, taking Hermione's hand and leading her to the sofa. They sit as they have become accustomed, Hermione leaning against Minerva's chest. Hermione wraps an arm around the thin waist and smiles with contentment when she feels fingers running through her hair.

"I love that," Hermione admits softly. "I love...being with you." She bites her lip to keep herself from admitting plainly that she loves Minerva. Too much uncertainty exists for the future, and although she is confident these feelings will only strengthen and grow, she will wait until she knows they can be together before she declares herself.

"The feeling is entirely mutual," Minerva answers, her voice weighted with emphasis, the emotion infused conveying she is not merely agreeing with the uttered words but rather with Hermione's hidden feelings, too.

_Perhaps not so hidden._

"I will see you next week, my dear. Go to sleep, now. You need to keep up your strength. Stay safe, and know I am thinking of you, mo Gràdh."

"Until then," Hermione agrees, as she closes her eyes. The last sounds she hears before sleep claims her is the steady beat of Minerva's heart. It has become her favorite way to end the day.


	6. December 1997

Lying on an uncomfortable cot during the early morning hours, Hermione revels in the dream she just had. Minerva kissing her, touching her, loving her. Hermione feels her body thrumming with desire, and she desperately wants to see Minerva in person.

She understands Minerva's reasons for not wanting to go further than chaste kisses while in the dreamscape. Truly. Hermione wants their physical interactions to be filled with sensation, just as the older witch does. She wants to have the time to explore and experience without worry. Yet, Hermione hungers for that day.

She has never been with anyone in that way, but she has read about it, and her roommates at Hogwarts had giggled about the things they had done with their boyfriends many times. It all seems so long ago. And so juvenile. What she feels for Minerva is all-encompassing, enduring, and more than what she could have ever imagined.

Just like in her dreams, she isn't able to clearly envision all the things Minerva and she will share, but she can feel the joy, the rapture, the rightness as their bodies intertwine during those fantasies. She knows she wants to explore Minerva's body with her eyes, her lips, and her hands. She knows she wants to taste and feel and see. She wants to bring pleasure to Minerva, to make her moan as her eyes darken with passion. She wants to love this woman in every possible way.  

With a sigh, Hermione rolls out of bed. Now that they have supplies, they are concentrating on what they know about the gifts Dumbledore willed to them so they can create a plan of action. Hermione is convinced they’re missing something.

After eating some porridge, Hermione brings a cup of tea to Harry, who sits in the entryway of the tent. "Come inside," she urges him, shivering as the coldness kisses her cheeks.

"Okay," he agrees. By tacit agreement they move over to the table where they have placed the Golden Snitch and _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ book Dumbledore gave them. Harry removes the Horcrux from around his neck and places it next to the other items.

"Why do you think the Sword of Gryffindor can destroy Horcruxes?"

"Well, Dumbledore used it to destroy the ring. That must be why Dumbledore left it to me in his will, even if he knew it wouldn't be given to me. He must have been trying to tell me that it could destroy Horcruxes." Harry continues to stare at the locket, his hands manipulating the first snitch he ever caught while playing Quidditch. "You know, I killed that basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets with the sword. Maybe, maybe—"

"Maybe the basilisk's venom has become part of the sword! Goblin-made weapons imbibe whatever makes them stronger. Harry, that's why it can destroy Horcruxes!" Hermione is excited by the revelation. It makes sense.

"And that's what Dumbledore was trying to tell me. We need that sword. Could Professor McGonagall—"

"No. I don't even know whether she thinks it's in Gringotts or if she knows that one is a fake. And we don't know where the real one is. I won't ask her to put herself in danger by finding it and getting it to us," Hermione states firmly. She withstands Harry's stare, exhaling with relief when he nods pensively.

"In the meantime," Hermione says as she picks up the book, "I can't help but think this means something. Look at this symbol." She points to a hand-printed triangle with a circle in its middle and a line running from the apex to the base of the triangle.

"I never took Ancient Runes, Hermione," Harry says plaintively.

"I know, but this isn't a rune." Hermione shakes her head dejectedly. She wonders whether it has to do with the stories in the book. She has combed through it several times, but she can't find a connection. Ron knows all about wizarding bedtime stories, but neither she nor Harry grew up hearing them. _Damn Ron! He should be here, helping us._

"Wait! I've seen this symbol before. Luna's father was wearing it as a pendant at Bill's wedding."

"He was?" Hermione says, shocked.

"Yeah. Krum told me that it was Grindelwald's mark. I don't think Luna's father would wear a symbol for him, though."

"And what would it be doing in a book of children's stories?"

"Yeah. It's weird. It must mean something else." Harry stares at the symbol silently for several minutes, a pensive look on his face. "Hermione?"

"Hmmm?"

"I've been thinking. I—I want to go to Godric's Hollow."

"Yes. I really think we have to," Hermione agrees distractedly, thinking Dumbledore might have hidden the Gryffindor sword there since it was Godric Gryffindor's birthplace.

"Did you hear me right?" Harry asks in an amazed voice.

"Of course I did." Hermione huffs out a breath. She eyes him speculatively, wondering what is going through his mind. She knows it is also his birthplace, but he must know Voldemort will be watching for him, expecting him to return to the scene of his parents' deaths. Even with that danger hanging over them, it is the only lead they have. They need to take the risk.

"We are going to have to think this through carefully, Harry. We will have to disguise ourselves and practice apparating and disapparating while using the invisibility cloak. And polyjuice, definitely." Hermione voices her ideas for several minutes, talking through the precautions they will need to take. Harry nods and agrees, but Hermione can tell he is not really paying attention. Sighing internally, she determines they will not attempt going to Godric's Hollow until they are properly prepared.

***

"Hermione?"

Turning her head, Hermione remains huddled, chin resting on her arms, arms holding her knees against her chest, and gazes at Minerva, who quickly crosses the grassy expanse and sits behind to her. Hermione feels long arms and legs surround her, and she closes her eyes.

"Tell me," a soft voice urges.

Although it is the end of December, Hermione has chosen to visualize a place she visited several years ago with her family during the summer months. The Cliffs of Moher are located on the west coast of Ireland in County Clare. Off to the right is O'Brien's Tower, resplendent against the backdrop of cloudy skies and a deep blue ocean. To the left, several hundreds of meters below, the ocean rolls against the cliff-side languidly, kissing it in greeting and murmuring like a lover before surging away, only to return again and again.

It's how she feels toward Minerva. She cannot stop her desire to return to the older witch, to spend time with her as much as possible. It is only with her she feels some semblance of peace. Living a life on the run is tiring on so many levels—she needs these moments to revitalize her flagging spirits.

Leaning back into Minerva's body, Hermione begins softly. "Ron returned two days ago." She continues to stare at the blending of horizon and ocean. "He said he could hear us when we said his name through the Deluminator. Ironically, it was the first time we mentioned him."

"Deluminator?"

"It's a device Dumbledore left him in his will. We thought it was to turn lights on or off," Hermione explains. "But, I guess he was able to hear us when we said his name, and he was able to apparate to where we were. Since our protective enchantments were in effect, he couldn't find us. The next day, a Patronus appeared before Harry during night watch, and he followed it to a frozen lake where he found the sword of Gryffindor." Hermione turns toward Minerva, locking her eyes with bright green ones. "Would you know anything about that?"

"No."

Staring hard at Minerva, Hermione sees she is not lying. "Who then? Did you know a fake one was sent to Gringott's for safekeeping?"

"What?! Severus sent it there. I can't imagine he would not have known..." Minerva muses. "I haven't seen it since before Albus' death."

After a long silence, Hermione faces forward once more and continues. "Ron found Harry in the lake. He nearly drowned while trying to get the sword. Ron dragged him out, and they returned to acting as if not a day of separation occurred." Hermione could not keep the bitterness from her voice. To think of all they had experienced while Ron indulged in his temper tantrum.

Strong arms squeeze Hermione gently. "I believe he would have returned sooner if he had known how."

"He expects to waltz back into our lives after we were nearly killed last week—" Hermione bites out.

"Killed?! What are you talking about?" Minerva exclaims, one hand firmly turning Hermione's head so their eyes can connect.

"On Christmas Eve we visited Godric's Hollow. Harry wanted to go, and I thought the real sword might be hidden there since the place connects Harry, Dumbledore, and Voldemort. We followed Bathilda Bagshot back to her place, only it wasn't her. It was Nagini in her reanimated body." Hermione swallows down her revulsion, remembering the dark house, the stink of death, the terrifying moment when she realized Harry was in danger.

"Thank Merlin you got away!" Minerva pulls Hermione closer to her. They stay that way for several minutes, and Hermione feels protected.

"Barely," Hermione admits. "Harry's wand broke." She twists so she can burrow her face into the crook of Minerva's neck. "It was my fault. My spell rebounded and hit it."

"Are you all right? Were you hurt?" Minerva asks while pulling back, her eyes sweeping over Hermione's body, worry making her eyes as stormy as the clouds above them.

"No, I'm okay. Harry was bitten, but he’s better now." Hermione runs her fingers gently over a defined cheek she loves so much. "And today we went to Luna's house to find out information about a symbol we keep seeing. Turns out Luna was kidnapped from the train on her way home from break, so her father tried to turn us over to the Death Eaters to get her back." Seeing anger overtaking Minerva, Hermione places a finger over quivering lips.

"It's okay. We got away, and we found out what we needed to know.”

"It is most certainly _not_ okay," Minerva exclaims, her hand capturing Hermione's as her pale face reflects her dismay, her fear. "Let me help you. Please!"

Smiling sadly, Hermione shakes her head. "You know I cannot. We each have our own paths to travel." Leaning forward, Hermione brushes her lips over Minerva's, needing the connection. "Thank you."

The sun's rays caress Hermione's face, and she looks up in surprise. The clouds remain, but the sun is valiantly attempting to pierce its veil. As she watches, a rainbow arcs high over the cliffs and ocean, its colors becoming more defined as she stares. Tears burn her eyes, and Hermione blinks several times to prevent them from falling. A gentle finger captures a tear which escapes despite Hermione's best efforts.

They gaze into each other's eyes, the weight of all that separates them pressing heavily. Hermione twists back to watch the waves as they continue to roll forward, the white foam standing out against Nature's kaleidoscope of colors: blue, green, yellow, and brown hues combining and separating while the incredible rainbow stretches across the sky. Hermione can taste rain and ocean brine in the air, and the humidity coats her skin like a lover's touch.

As she sits surrounded by the stolid presence of her love, Hermione's senses kick into high gear. Not only can she smell the rain and salt but also honeysuckle and lavender. Leaning back, she realizes it is Minerva's evocative scent, and she breathes in deeply, as her eyes flutter close.

She realizes the arms holding her so closely have begun to wander. A warm hand skims the sensitive skin of her ribs and sides, as thin lips nibble her throat. Groaning at how good this feels, Hermione feels a heaviness settle below her belly, between her legs. Her sex begins to throb with need, and she fights her inclination to turn and cover the body she so desperately wants to feel.

Hands become bolder, running up and down her sides, across her stomach, and up her chest. She can hear her breath speeding up, air becoming harder to capture. Those hands, those lips! A tongue outlines the shell of her ear, and a growled, "I want you!" causes Hermione to whimper. Simultaneously a tongue enters her ear, as sure fingers tweak a hard nipple.

"Ahh, Minerva," Hermione gasps. The feelings are indescribable. She burns for more. For several moments she feels that wicked tongue exploring her ear before moving to her neck. Teeth come into play, scraping lightly down her tendon and nibbling her shoulder before switching directions, moving to the other side of her neck to inflict more glorious torture.

Hermione is panting, her hands squeezing the knees on either side of her thighs, her head thrown back, eyes tightly closed. Hands switch so that the other breast can be manipulated while the other hand lays claim to stomach and ribs. A finger rings around her bellybutton before entering it, making Hermione wiggle and squeal. She hears a low, sexy chuckle near her ear and smiles.

As her nipple is rolled between thumb and finger, Hermione feels the other hand on her belly, then lower. Warmth covers her damp panties decisively, and Hermione pushes into the hand, no longer able to control her response.

"Do you want this?" is whispered heatedly into Hermione's ear, punctuated by a nip behind her ear, a sharp pull on her nipple, and a finger pressing against her sex.

"Yesss," Hermione says in a strangled voice. She has never wanted anything so much in her life. She may not have ever experienced these feelings before, but she knows she loves them. She knows Minerva will make her feel much more, too. She is ready. She wants it. She needs it. She needs Minerva.

Nimble fingers begin rubbing her through her panties, up and down, side to side, in a pattern she cannot track. Her body moves against Minerva's hand, trying to feel more. She can feel her body responding, and she quickens her pace, thrusting up and down, as skin slides against her back, as fingers pluck at her erect nubs. She realizes quite suddenly she can feel Minerva's breasts rubbing enticingly against her shoulder blades. That she is naked, as is Minerva. That two hands are manipulating her breasts. That two fingers are rubbing against the top of her sex, stimulating her exquisitely. That a hand is securely anchored around her waist. She can feel all of these things, but she cannot see.

Trying to open her eyes is extremely hard. Her panting is loud in her ears, yet over it she can hear the even louder crashing of the waves against the cliffs. Arching, Hermione feels waves of sensation overwhelm her. "Minerva!" she shouts, her eyes finally focusing on the horizon quite suddenly as they pop open.

Not understanding what has happened, Hermione stiffens in arms wrapped around her tightly. They are covered in clothes, as is her body. So many questions clamber for attention. She can feel her body, heavy, throbbing. She is still panting. She can hear panting next to her ear. Turning her head, she opens her mouth to ask, to say, to somehow figure out what the hell just occurred, but before she can make a sound, desperate lips crash against hers and a forceful tongue enters her mouth.

Carried away by the passion, Hermione moans loudly and rubs her tongue against Minerva's questing one wantonly. Their tongues slide together gloriously for long moments, and Hermione begins to understand why such an intimate kiss can be so exciting.

It takes Hermione merely a moment longer to realize she cannot smell Minerva—no honeysuckle, no lavender. Nor can she taste the woman's breath. Their tongues stop exploring, and they pull back merely enough to stare into each other's eyes.

Minerva's eyes are darkened with passion, but Hermione sees confusion, realization, and sorrow, too. Shaking her head, Hermione tries to understand.

"You were dreaming, Hermione. I saw everything."

Eyes widening, mortified as the truth washes over her, Hermione tries to turn away but is stopped by a gentle hand cupping her cheek. "Hermione...do you want that with me?"

Blinking several times, Hermione sees the uncertainty and the hope in those clear emerald eyes. Nodding, she answers, "Yes. So much that I ache."

She watches as the truth is accepted. Minerva's face becomes animated with joy, and she seems lit from within.

"Me, too. I do want you. And we will be together," Minerva declares before pulling Hermione in for another hug.

"I just, I don't understand how everything could feel so real," Hermione says bashfully.

"In a dream your mind taps into your memories and incorporates them. It can access your past sensory experiences, as your mind creates the environment. It creates your reality, and the limitations of reality can be bypassed. That’s why it can feel so vivid. In the dreamscape, we’re using our senses, but they’re limited by our environment, which is why we cannot smell or taste. Even our other senses are limited." Minerva turns Hermione around and rests her chin on her shoulder.

"Why is it, then, that we witnessed a glorious rainbow when I never actually saw one while visiting this place?"

After a pregnant pause, Minerva says, "I don't know. I have operated under the assumption we can only create conditions that exist in the real world."

They sit in silence for a while, each lost in their thoughts. Hermione feels her body cool down. She is kept warm by snuggling into Minerva's body, as the sun begins to set. "It felt so real."

"Mmm. Watching you with me, I...I cannot deny that I want to make those dreams come true," Minerva says hoarsely.

"You will." Hermione’s hands grip Minerva's forearms, and she closes her eyes once more. "We will." She smiles, as she feels the brush of lips against her temple. "Sweet dreams." Hermione closes her eyes once more to sleep.


	7. January 1998

A knock on her office door causes Minerva to look up from the stack of essays written by her third years. With a sigh of relief, she bids the intruder to enter, welcoming any reason to stop subjecting herself to such torturous scribblings. Seeing who is walking through her door, Minerva keeps an impassive look on her face even though she is surprised.

"Minerva."

"Headmaster," she replies stiffly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She is not quite able to state the question without sarcasm, judging from the sardonic smirk that flits over his features.

"It seems some of your upper-class Gryffindors," he sneers, "are placing themselves in foolish danger by attempting to protect some of the first-years from warranted disciplinary action. I have received complaints from some of the staff," drawls Severus, his eyes sweeping over her office restlessly.

"You mean the Carrows do not appreciate that those who can actually protect themselves are protecting the innocent from unfair punishments," Minerva restates.

"They must stop, or I will have no choice but to _discipline_ them."

Anger pushes Minerva's body from her seat, and in the next moment she stands mere inches from Severus, nose to nose, glaring at him. "What has happened to you, Severus? They are persecuting these children for not being purebloods. This is supposed to be a safe place, a place where all wizards and witches can learn without fear. How can you stand by and allow them to use the _Cruciatus_ curse on them? Don't you care? Or are you just too afraid that if you don't allow his minions free reign, he will decide you have outlived your usefulness?"

They stare at each other for several seconds, the tension thick, before Severus takes a large step back. "Heed my warning."

Before she can form a retort, he turns and strides out of the office.

"Bloody wanker!" Minerva growls. Swinging around, she begins to pace in front of her desk. It has been hard for her to not openly undermine his authority, knowing it will only cause more problems and possibly force him to take action against her. Although always polite in public, it is infinitely harder for her to control her temper when they are away from witnesses. Since they have had few private interactions, Severus is no doubt quite aware of her feelings.

Standing still, Minerva tilts her head in thought. _So, why give me this warning?_ She has been operating under the assumption he’s firmly on Voldemort's side, but this—it doesn't make sense. Sighing, Minerva sinks into her chair and closes her eyes.

It reminds her of something Hermione said the last time they were together. They have the sword of Gryffindor. A Patronus appeared and led Harry to where it was resting at the bottom of a frozen lake. _How is that possible? Who helped them? Whose Patronus was it?_

The sword, as far as she knew, had been in Severus' office before he'd sent it to Gringotts for protection, but Hermione mentioned a fake sword was there. She trusted Hermione's word. So, if that were true, wouldn't Severus have spotted the fake?

She is tired. So tired. This war is fast approaching the point where lines will be clearly drawn, and anyone who is against Voldemort will be captured or killed. Death Eaters are freely killing Muggles for sport, and the Ministry is controlled by Voldemort's followers. She cannot help but feel a great responsibility weighing on her to remain in this cursed role when all she wants to do is join Hermione, help her, support her, and love her while the younger woman helps Harry with fulfilling his quest to find and destroy the Horcruxes.

Although she has not told Hermione that she knows the details of their quest, she is sure Hermione realizes it. Such a seemingly impossible task for one so young. Harry has experienced so much in his young life, and by extension his two closest friends, Ronald and Hermione, have too. _Hermione._ How her heart aches to see her. Two weeks between visits, she chafes at the too-few times when they are able to talk. She hesitates to ask for more, though. She knows they’re changing locations each day, and roughing it has taken a toll on her young love. She does not want to burden her with her own needs.

But needs she does have. Minerva fought such thoughts viciously when they began formulating in her mind during late nights last year, usually after they met to discuss whatever Hermione was puzzling out in her brilliant mind. As they spent more and more time together, it became a fight she could not hope to win. And this year, as the war has became worse and the stakes higher, she has stopped trying. Either of them might die at any time, their respective roles vital and precarious. She will gladly accept every moment they are able to share together and cherish them all.

A shudder shoots through her, as she recalls witnessing Hermione's fantasy of them making love. Having a front row seat to such a provocative tableau caused her to lose control, pulling Hermione into a kiss that still makes her toes curl whenever her mind touches on those stolen moments. Their doubles, seated toward them, provided Minerva with a mouth-watering view of Hermione's nude body.

Curvy, supple, and flushed, Hermione looked exquisite, and recognizing how aroused she was because of her and the emotions she evoked in the younger woman, Minerva wanted to make those fantasies a reality. She still does—desperately.

Catching her lower lip between her teeth, Minerva lets out a low moan as she recalls Hermione's body moving instinctually, begging to be satisfied with hands and lips. Legs opened wide, hips pushing upward to feel more firmly fingers rubbing against her, nipples proudly erect, back arched enticingly, all while Hermione voiced her pleasure, her need, her desire.

_Merlin! Why am I torturing myself? It wasn't real!_

However, it might become real one day. And on some level it seemed very real.

_What is real, anyway?_

This is what truly has been bothering her. The dreamscape is supposedly a plane through which she and Hermione are able to interact, but it is constructed through their minds. Wherever they meet is based on a place one has been, a place still in existence in the real world. Under this belief, Minerva has imagined her favorite room in her Manor for the majority of their meetings. Yet, Hermione changed the rules. She created the environment during their last meeting, and then told her she had not ever experienced the sight of a rainbow while there.

How was this possible? Was it a reflection of what had been occurring in that same place but in the real world...the world outside their dreamscape? Minerva did not imagine the rainbow, and through Hermione's words Minerva understands neither did she. So, how did it become part of their dreamscape? It changed all the rules.

Snorting indelicately, Minerva shakes her head in consternation. As if anything about their relationship has followed well-established rules. Falling in love with a student! _Former student_ , she reminds herself sternly. _So young! So innocent! So inexperienced!_

But she has experienced more than many twice her age and borne her burdens well. Minerva cannot help but be saddened by the thought that Hermione is not quite as innocent as she should be. Her youth has ended prematurely, along with the carefree, happy moments a young woman her age should experience with her two closest friends. She is on the run, being hunted by the most vile wizard to ever walk the Earth, a man intent on grabbing power and reaching immortality at any cost.

As for her inexperience, Minerva feels her body flush with arousal, humming at the thought that Hermione wants to become _experienced_ with her. She doesn't know why Hermione wants her—with her intelligence, passion, and beauty, she can have anyone. Yet, their connection is undeniable and becoming stronger each day.

Frowning, Minerva squeezes the bridge of her nose as her mind worries an embarrassing truth: she is not very experienced. Sixty-two years old, and she has experienced only a handful of romantic relationships. She has always been very private, slow to trust. In fact, she has only fallen in love twice before.

The feelings she has for Hermione are deep, profound, boundless. She can easily envision sharing a life with her. And while looking into honey-colored eyes, she can read the love, the desire, the certainty staring back. They have a future to create together.

If only they can get through the war alive.

***

Settled before a warm fire, listening to the wind blowing forcefully outside her window and the pinging of sleet against it, Minerva looks around, eyes narrowed. She has envisioned her favorite room for their meeting, enjoying the serenity it evokes and knowing Hermione feels comfortable in the room, too.

She looks at every detail, recognizing the details she has added over the course of their meetings. She looks at the moving photographs fondly. These photos sit in her ancestral home in this very room. She wonders whether such items will still remain in this construct if she removes them, if, for instance, she brings the photos to her bedroom at Hogwarts. Before their last meeting, she would have believed that once removed from the room, they would no longer appear here. Now she is not so certain.

She wonders whether they can perform magic while in the dreamscape. Can she transform the chair into a table as she would if she were awake? Or, taking it one step further, is it possible to create items in the dreamscape through the power of the mind instead of through magic? Once again Hermione has changed her perspective, forcing her to rethink what she thought were unchangeable truths.

Attraction. Age. Maturity. Experience. Fantasy. Dreams. Reality. Perspective. Nothing is as she once believed. Everything has changed. All because of one unforgettable witch.

Hermione is late. It worries her. They have never missed a meeting, and it makes Minerva anxious, wondering whether she is safe. Hearing movement behind her, Minerva rises, meeting Hermione halfway across the room. She pulls her into her arms, holding her tightly for several minutes. When she feels Hermione stirring, she reluctantly pulls back enough to see her face.

"I am sorry if I worried you. We were dodging some Snatchers, and it took a while to set up camp."

"Snatchers? Did they see you?" Minerva’s heart beats faster.

"No, but they were close."

"Can I help you? Tell me what I can do. I can send Elsa again with supplies," Minerva offers, looking deeply into serious eyes.

"I, no. Then Harry and I would have to tell Ron about these meetings, and we agreed that isn't a good idea," Hermione says as she drops her eyes away.

"Why?"

"Because, well, when Ron left us, he didn't dare go back to his parents. He was embarrassed and knew how disappointed they would be with the way he behaved. So, if he finds out we are in contact, it won't take long for him to realize that you know he deserted us.”

"You mean," Minerva says slowly, trying to hold back her anger, "you would rather scrounge for food and supplies rather than bruise that boy's fragile ego?" Her voice has risen and become much louder by the end of the sentence, incredulity overtaking her control.

"Well—"

"Are you, do you have feelings for him after all? What are you playing at?" Minerva exclaims as she drops her hands and steps away.

"No! Minerva, I told you, I think of him as a brother, same as Harry!" Hermione answers loudly.

"Did you tell him as much?" At Hermione's guilty look, Minerva shakes her head and grimaces. "Of course not. You wouldn't want to hurt his pride, would you?" she says acerbically.

"That's not fair! We have been friends for years. He is one of my closest friends—"

Swinging around, Minerva shouts, "He is in love with you! He didn't return out of some sense of duty; he returned for you. You, Hermione!" Taking a calming breath, Minerva continues, "And why wouldn't he? You are intelligent, beautiful, funny, courageous, and you are the same age."

"Age has nothing to do with this!"

"Hermione, really. Age has everything to do with this. I am forty-four years your senior. I have already taken part in two other wars, and I have the scars to prove it. I have been married and outlived my husband. I have taught more years than you have lived. My body—"

"Is beautiful, as are you," Hermione interrupts firmly. "You’re right. You are older and more experienced, but how can you deny the connection between us? You make me feel alive, excited about all the possibilities we have before us. I have dreamed of sharing my future with you. I thought, I thought you wanted that, too. Perhaps I am just a young, naive fool. But even if you do not want me, I will not be with Ron. He can never compare to you. Never."

Staring at Hermione, shaking with emotion as tears run down her face, Minerva feels wretched. She has hurt Hermione, and all due to her own insecurities. How could she doubt Hermione in this way? She has known this woman long enough to know she would not lead Minerva down this road if she were not sincere.

Crossing to her in two long steps, Minerva takes Hermione in her arms, sorrow lacing her words. "No, Hermione, you are not a young, naive fool. It is I who am an old, jaded simpleton. I am sorry I doubted you. Please forgive me." She feels a nod against her neck and wonders whether Hermione truly does accept her apology.

"I am sorry, my dear. I became jealous." Minerva laughs humorlessly. "Not a very noble emotion, is it? You deserve better than my constant doubts as to how you could possibly want me."

"I do want you, all that you are willing to give," Hermione murmurs, her lips brushing the side of her neck.

Minerva feels horrible. She has behaved atrociously toward her young love. Feeling her pull away a bit, Minerva cannot bring herself to raise her eyes, although she can feel Hermione's steady gaze on her. Gentle fingers grace over her forehead, and she realizes her self-condemnation is clearly showing through her facial expression. Taking a deep breath, Minerva consciously releases her angst as she exhales.

"Better," whispers Hermione sweetly before leaning in to brush her lips against her forehead, sliding slowly over her closed eyelids and stalling for several moments to deliver butterfly kisses.

"Oh," Minerva gasps, entranced by the love emanating through each of Hermione's kisses. Those addictive lips graze her cheek, and Minerva shivers, holding Hermione against her. She is tempted to tilt her head and capture those teasing lips, but she resists, allowing Hermione to do as she wishes. Finally, her lips cover Minerva's gently in greeting, expressing affection and desire. Groaning, Minerva parts her lips to breathe in Hermione's quickening breaths.

"Missed you," Hermione whispers against her lips before kissing her more forcefully.

"Missed you, too," Minerva gasps when they break for air. _I don't deserve such goodness._

"Can we meet more often? Once a week?" Hermione asks timidly, as she kisses the side of Minerva's mouth.

"Yes, darling." She moans when Hermione covers her lips again, wanting to give her anything she desires. Unable to resist, Minerva follows Hermione's spine with one hand up to the back of her head, sliding her fingers through the mass of silken locks. The sounds coming from her drive Minerva crazy, and before she can stop herself she moves her hand to cover a perky breast. Squeezing the heavenly mound, Minerva greedily swallows Hermione's whimpers, keen to be the cause of more evocative sounds.

Breaking the kiss, Minerva nibbles on an earlobe, sucking it into her mouth.

"Oh, Minerva," Hermione hisses.

"Ahh," gasps Minerva as two hands begin kneading her backside, stirring up her blood even more. _Merlin, I want her!_ She licks Hermione's ear, entering the canal fully before withdrawing and entering again. Minerva can feel Hermione's beautiful body shuddering in her arms, as her back arches in response to Minerva's fingers manipulating her nipple. Skimming her nose down Hermione neck, Minerva licks at the indentation between collar bones.

The soft silk of Hermione's peach blouse prevents Minerva from doing more, and she growls her frustration. Remembering what Hermione looks like without clothes, how sensually her body moved when touched intimately, Minerva wishes fervently that the treasure Hermione's shirt covers would be revealed to her.

And then suddenly it is.

Minerva wastes no time taking a tight bud in her mouth and sucking it lightly as her fingers manipulate the other nipple. She slides her hand to Hermione's lower back to support a suddenly unsteady body, loving how Hermione shouts out her name. Minerva moans as she feels fingers under her shirt, exploring her stomach, her sides.

"Minerva, please," Hermione whispers harshly. "Please! I need you! I—"

Stumbling forward, Minerva looks around in horror. Hermione has disappeared. One moment she was in her arms, begging her to make love to her, and the next moment she is gone. "Hermione?" Minerva says as she spins around. "Hermione!" she shouts more urgently. _What could have happened?_

Minerva waits for hours, but Hermione does not appear. Her concern ratchets up to panic. She rages at the feeling of helplessness pervading her. She does not know where Hermione is, and she has no other way of contacting her than through the dreamscape. Just as she slumps back on the sofa, resigned to sleep and the uncertainty of Hermione's safety, she hears quick footsteps. Jumping up, she strides to Hermione, meeting her just inside the door.

"I'm so sorry!" Hermione says, embracing Minerva.

"Are you all right?" Minerva asks urgently.

"Yes. Ron heard me moaning your name and woke me up," Hermione says, her displeasure evident in her voice.

Pressing her lips together, Minerva feels a cascade of emotions flow over her: anger, relief, frustration, and amusement. "That is unfortunate. You will have to moan more quietly in the future," Minerva quips, chuckling at Hermione's scowl.

"Yeah, well, it's easy for you to joke about. I was the one who had to answer his jealous questions," Hermione sulks.

Guiding Hermione to the sofa, they sit down closely together, and Minerva wraps her arm protectively around her. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him we meet every so often and you’ve provided supplies to us in the past. At first he was fine with it, and then he seemed to realize what that might mean. He was pretty angry that you know what we are doing, even though I explained to him we have never discussed the details. And then he began to make accusations, like you are some spy reporting out all that is happening! Harry and I were able to make him see reason, but it took some time." Sighing, Hermione places a hand over her eyes, as if shielding them. "After that, he came back to the fact that I was moaning your name."

Silence fills the room, broken only by the crackling fire and Nature's shrieking.

"And?" Minerva prompts softly.

"I told them the truth. Harry already suspected. Ron—he did not take it well." Turning in Minerva's arms, she looks solemn and bereft. "You were right. I should have told him earlier. He should not have found out this way."

Not feeling the least bit validated, Minerva sighs loudly. "I am so sorry, Hermione. I know this is not easy. I hope he will find a way to accept you do not harbor romantic feelings for him. I will understand if he cannot accept us together, but I will be very disappointed if he turns his back on you again."

"Well, you might be okay with his not accepting us being together, but I certainly am not!" Hermione states heatedly. "He is supposed to be one of my closest friends. It's not as if I ever led him to believe I liked him that way. He needs to get over himself and grow up!" she finishes, then turns in the ring of Minerva's arms and crosses her arms over her chest with a loud huff.

Smiling softly, Minerva rubs her back in soothing circles. "He will come around. Give him time. He has just realized he will never have you. I know if that were to happen to me, it would break my poor heart. You are everything to me. I believe he feels similarly. And while you are making my dreams come true, he is awakening from his."

"I didn't mean to hurt him." Hermione begins to cry, her body convulsing as tears overtake her. Minerva pulls Hermione back into her body, trying to console her as best she can, rocking her. She rests her chin on a shaking shoulder, murmuring words of support and affection until the tears abate. They remain cuddled on the sofa with Minerva providing Hermione a safe haven where she can rest, and they listen to the world as it howls its displeasure throughout the restless, stormy night.


	8. February 1998

Tuning out Ron as he taps the radio with his wand and mumbles words while turning the dial, trying to find the Potterwatch broadcast as he does every night, Hermione quietly mutters a well-known incantation and moves her wand in a figure-eight motion. Once done, she places her wand under her pillow, punching it into a malleable ball of feathers before settling on the cot. Harry is so happy to have Ron back that he doesn't care about the aggravating buzzing and senseless static constantly filling the frigid evening air.

Hermione is still having trouble forgiving Ron for his temporary abandonment. Moreover, she did not appreciate his harsh response when he found out about her feelings for Minerva. Since then they have circled each other cautiously, neither ignoring nor engaging the other person. Hermione knows they will have to talk it out, but she is in no hurry. Ron has always allowed his emotions to rule his actions, and she is not faring much better, lately. Not when it comes to Minerva.

It does not help that Hermione finds herself craving Minerva's touch, her voice, her presence. Even though they have increased their meetings to once a week, the days in between pass slowly. Moreover, in these meetings, their romance has taken a back seat to more immediate concerns—events occurring throughout the wizarding world, including at Hogwarts, the Ministry, and Hermione's camp. Although Hermione understands the necessity, it does not lessen her desire to take further what they shared three weeks ago on the night Hermione revealed her feelings for Minerva to her two closest friends.

Perhaps it is due to the precariousness of their situation. Hermione feels the urge to push, to take what she desperately wants and what she knows Minerva wants, too. Every day becomes more dangerous, and Hermione does not want to die not knowing what it feels like to come undone in Minerva's arms. She wants to feel the power of unwrapping Minerva's restraint, of breaking her apart as passion overcomes her natural reserve. If Hermione had not been so rudely awakened by Ron last month, she is sure Minerva would have given in to their feelings and made love to her.

Although Minerva voiced her preference to wait until they are reunited in person, Hermione is finding she is unwilling to wait so long. And now that she’s questioning the limitations the dreamscape presents, Hermione has decided to test such boundaries.

Hermione has given much thought to the places where they have met and the way they instinctually changed their environments when passions ran high. She hadn't realized the alterations at those times, but with each meeting they are better able to manipulate their dreamscape.

At first it was the time of day or the weather. It didn’t occur to her earlier, but over the last few months their dreamscapes have not always reflected the weather in their physical world accurately. Like when they met in Ireland—it was a warm summer day, although they met at the end of December. And although she had not witnessed a rainbow while visiting Ireland with her family years ago, Hermione must have created it in the dreamscape with a stray desire. In addition, she is fairly certain a rainbow did not appear in Ireland at that particular moment, reflecting the "real" world while they interacted in the dreamscape.

Even more startling, Minerva made Hermione's blouse disappear while they were kissing. At the time Hermione was so caught up in the moment when Minerva took her breast in her mouth that she did not question the hows of it. Yet, how did Minerva remove her blouse with a thought?

Hermione is determined to test her theory that they can perform magic in the dreamscape. More, that they can manipulate their dreamscape with a focused thought, needing neither wand nor incantation. In effect, they can do anything their minds imagine. All the rules they have abided by have been based on what they are able to do while in the conscious world. _But what if we can create our own rules in the dreamscape?_ That's what Hermione wants to explore.

Closing her eyes, Hermione imagines herself wearing a slinky midnight-blue negligée while curled up on the leather sofa in front of a warm fire at Minerva's ancestral home. Smiling, practically feeling the heat radiating through the thin silk material covering her body, Hermione takes a deep breath and opens her eyes, allowing them to flitter about as she realizes Minerva has yet to arrive. Sitting up, Hermione curls her legs under herself and settles into the corner of the comfortable sofa to wait and plan. It is not long before she hears determined steps entering the room.

"Hermione."

Turning her head, she watches Minerva's eyes darken and her steps falter before speeding up. Soon Hermione is tugged off the sofa and into a welcome kiss. Hermione hums, her arms winding around a thin waist to pull Minerva closer. "Missed you," she murmurs against soft lips before gently swiping her tongue across them. She can feel the texture of slightly chapped lips, the quick exhale of humid breath, the firmer pressure of mouths fused together as their kisses intensify. Their tongues rub together provocatively, and Hermione imagines tasting mint and tea and Minerva.

With a gasp, Minerva pulls away. "How...how is this possible?"

It is not hard to understand what she is asking. "I have imagined it, and so it is." Hermione runs a finger over a defined cheekbone. "I want all my senses to be active while we are together."

"That does not answer how." Minerva’s eyes close, as Hermione brushes her thumb over moistened lips.

"I have been thinking about how we have been able to change our dreamscape. It occurred to me we may be creating rules that don't really apply. Like with our senses. Why can't we access all of them?"

"Well, logically speaking, we are constrained by the truth that where we meet is a construct, a reflection of the conscious world. We can neither access all of our senses nor arbitrarily change the interior of our dreamscape." Minerva says, weighing each word.

"But that isn't entirely true, is it, Minerva? We have changed the clothes we wear when here as opposed to what we are wearing while asleep and in the dreamscape. And we have changed the time of day, the weather, and even objects in this room."

Hermione watches as Minerva's eyes sweep around them, now noticing the additions she made upon arrival. Her lips quirk into a small smile, as she feels Minerva's body stiffen into awareness when she notices the four-poster canopy bed in the corner. Made of ornately carved hardwood in a rich cherry color, it is decorated with sheets and a warm comforter in dark reds, gold, and cream colors. It looks inviting. Warm. Soft. Comfortable.

"Minerva," Hermione whispers into her ear, loving how she trembles at their closeness. "Don't you think it's time you take me to bed?" She can hear the loud swallow, the shallow breathing and continues softly. "I know you want to be with me. I know you have given me your heart. Surely you must know you have mine. Minerva?"

"I...I thought we agreed to wait until we are reunited?" Minerva says, her voice thick.

"Yes, but as the days pass, I cannot help but question whether that will happen, and Minerva, I do not want to die without knowing how it feels to be surrounded by your love. I need you. Please." Hermione strokes Minerva's shivering frame, covered in black linen slacks and a long-sleeved, plum-colored velvet, button-down shirt. The shirt feels luscious against her hand, but it is hiding too much from Hermione's hungry eyes.

"Don't say such things." Hermione can hear the pain in Minerva’s. "We will get through these dark times, and we will be together. You must believe it, Hermione."

"I want to believe it. I do. But, I just, I feel that we’re running out of time to complete what we have set out to do. The stakes are so high, and it’s a good bet we will either fail in our quest or die while succeeding."

"No! I refuse to believe it. You cannae die. I will not allow it," Minerva says vehemently, pulling Hermione into a tight hug.

"Make love to me, Minerva," Hermione presses. She pulls back, gazing into stormy eyes. "Hey," she says in a lighthearted tone of voice. "At best, we will be able to compare the sensations when we are together outside of here. See if you’re right after all." Hermione grins at the perplexed look she receives. "You are a seeker of knowledge, aren't you?"

With a growl, Minerva capitulates. The kiss Hermione receives is much more potent than those they’ve shared in the past. It reflects just how much Minerva desires her, and Hermione feels her body flush with arousal. Moaning into the kiss, Hermione envisions silk against smooth, ivory skin, swallowing a gasp of surprise as her hands begin to explore newly-bared arms.

 _I knew this was possible!_ Barely restraining the impulse to gloat, and having much better things to do with her mouth, Hermione nibbles on an elegant throat, feeling the vibration of a low moan. Silk slides against sleek skin as they kiss again and again, each more intense, each deeper and slower. Hermione feels suspended in time, her entire being concentrated on what they are creating. As one they move toward the bed and sink onto decadent sheets.

Reverent touches coupled with whispered words of affection place Hermione under a haze of desire. Somehow her wispy lingerie disappears, and Hermione groans long and loud, her head tipping back as teeth graze a path between her breasts.

"Are you sure, mo Gràdh?"

"Yes.” Hermione undulates under Minerva, allowing one hand to tangle in luscious raven locks and the other to explore Minerva's spine. "I don't want to wait any longer. Please love me, Minerva."

"I do."

Hearing the solemnity within those words, Hermione opens eyes she did not realize slipped closed. Minerva is braced on her forearms, her body hovering closely. Smiling tremulously, Hermione whispers, "Me, too." Her eyes close once more, as soft lips cover hers.

Lips slide down Hermione's neck before lightly brushing her breast. Gasping at the sensation, Hermione arches as a slick tongue carefully circles her nipple, causing it to tighten.

"So beautiful." Minerva’s mouth covers an aching breast, sucking lightly. Hermione mewls as her back bows, wanting to feel more. She holds Minerva's head close to her chest, her other hand caressing supple back muscles. After several minutes, Minerva pulls back enough to blow on the lovingly abused nipple.

"I love the flavor of your flesh. I have dreamt of tasting you. Imagined it so many times." Minerva’s low burr chases a chill down Hermione’s spine. She takes the other nipple in her mouth, sucking at it more strongly.

Hermione cries out. She feels alight with sensation. "Minerva. Minerva. Oh!" She’s unable to think, unable to tell Minerva how wonderful she feels while being touched by her.

"Does that feel good, my love? Do you want me to continue?" Minerva’s voice rough.

"Yes! Please don't stop!" She gasps loudly as a toned leg pushes between hers, pressing against her intimately. It feels amazing. Instinctually, Hermione moves her hand to the small of Minerva's back and presses her closer, as she propels her body upward.

A growl fills the air, Minerva's mouth ripping away from Hermione's breast, as she moves against her. Hermione can feel wetness on her upper leg, and it thrills her to know Minerva is excited by her.

Hermione blushes when Minerva moves lower, her lips grazing her ribs, her stomach, the side of one hip. She no longer is covered by Minerva's body, and she reaches down, arms covering her torso as she rests her hands on strong shoulders.

"Hermione?" Minerva says, a question in her voice.

"I, I—can you come back up here?" Hermione asks timidly. She watches an expression of comprehension, quickly followed by an understanding smile, cross Minerva's face. She sighs with relief as Minerva changes direction and holds her closely.

"Of course, my dear. I'm glad you said something," Minerva murmurs, her voice soothing.

"I'm sorry. I know it's silly to feel so, so..."

"So, vulnerable? That's not silly at all. Expressing yourself this way takes a tremendous amount of trust. It's natural to feel exposed." Minerva leans on a forearm and runs a finger over Hermione's collarbones in a hypnotizing pattern. "I want you to feel comfortable with me. And if that means we just hold each other now, then—"

"No! I—"

"Shhh," Minerva interrupts, holding her finger against Hermione's lips. "I want to make love to you. And I will. Merlin knows I have yearned to be closer to you. But Hermione, we do not need to rush."

"That's just it, though, Minerva. I feel that we do. If these were ordinary times without the threat of war, then I wouldn't push so much. I just, I have this feeling. And maybe it's just me letting my fears get the better of me." Hermione stares earnestly at Minerva. "The thing is, I'm not willing to take the risk. I want to show you how I feel, how much you affect me, how much I need you. I don't know how else to explain..."

Hermione feels tears leaking from her eyes, and she closes them, embarrassed. Fingers wipe them away from her cheeks tenderly, followed by soft lips and a gentle tongue swiping at the wetness. Sighing, Hermione turns into Minerva's body, burrowing into the crook of her neck. She kisses it lightly and, encouraged by the strangled moan she hears, Hermione kisses more of the attractive neck, taking time to taste and nibble. She nudges Minerva on her back, her eyes hungrily jumping over porcelain skin and full breasts. Soon, her mouth follows where her gaze traveled.

She tastes so good, so smooth, so addictive. Groaning, Hermione sucks an erect nipple, curving her arm around an arching back and pulling Minerva closer. Her thigh falls between flexing legs, pushing into Minerva's womanhood snuggly. She feels strong fingers guiding her head back to waiting lips, and she drowns in desire, as parted lips meld together, tongues rubbing deliciously. Her body responds to Minerva's surging form, riding the waves of motion, loving how their bodies fit.

Long fingers find their way between them, stroking Hermione's bundle of nerves and triggering a jagged cry. Their bodies pick up speed, perspiration slick between them, and Hermione feels her body breaking apart. She pulls away from their kiss, panting and euphoric as sensation rolls over her, and she rides a sensation she has never felt before—ecstasy in the arms of her love. Their eyes connect just before Minerva loses control, and Hermione watches her darkened eyes spark with emotion before they close and an animalistic roar precipitates a fierce embrace.

Their movements become more coordinated and deliberate, lethargic rocking as aftershocks course through Hermione. She takes deep breaths, opening her eyes with a sigh of contentment, reveling in the sensations produced by fingers running over her back and resting on her hip. She pulls back and looks questioningly at Minerva.

"What, darling?"

"Why were you so resistant of this?"

"Well, not of this in particular. I’m more concerned about taking your maidenhood."

"But why? Are you afraid I will change my mind? I won't. I want you to be the one. I...I feel wonderful, but I need more. My body feels like it’s still waiting...not as sharply as before, but the desire is still present." She locks eyes with Minerva. "I don't want you to hold back."

Swooping in, Hermione delivers a bruising kiss, intent on relaying that she knows what she is saying, knows what she wants. Minerva returns the kiss while rolling them over so Hermione is lying on her back. Strong fingers begin rolling Hermione's aching nipples, tugging and squeezing, as their tongues duel for dominance. Moaning into a demanding mouth, Hermione opens her legs wider to allow Minerva to settle between them. She feels no shame in painting the older witch's belly with the proof of her desire. Instead, she feels wanton and wild, her need overruling any shyness that was present earlier.

Their kiss breaks, and Hermione stares into an ardent gaze while trying to catch her breath. She pulls Minerva closer, squeezing a surprisingly muscular backside and ducks forward to scrape her teeth against Minerva's extended throat. Her other hand tangles into glorious tresses, holding Minerva in place, as she nibbles under a strong chin and glides her wet mouth to an enticing ear. Sucking on the lobe, Hermione flicks her tongue at the fleshy appendage, loving the mewling she hears and the way Minerva moves her body restlessly against her. To find this incredible woman reacting this strongly to her ministrations is astounding. Empowering. Humbling.

Lips cover her breast, and Hermione cannot stop her body from thrusting upward forcefully. She shouts, her sex throbbing, demanding attention. She feels fingers brushing against her bundle of nerves before circling around her wet, wet opening. "Please." Hermione groans, moving her lower body shamelessly.

In the next moment Hermione loses her breath, as Minerva enters her with a finger and stills to give her a moment to adjust. Fingers continue to make random patterns over her swollen clitoris, and the momentary pain Hermione felt when Minerva took her virginity fades, thick desire filling her. She begins to move against those maddening fingers, feeling her lower belly coiling in anticipation. Minerva drives her finger in and out of her forcefully, and the amount of viscous fluid Hermione's body produces makes it hard for her to feel any friction. Minerva seems to understand. She enters Hermione with two fingers, twisting them and pulling out slowly in time to Hermione's movements.

"You are beautiful, mo Gràdh. Such a gift. Such a stunning gift."

Hermione easily recognizes the desire, the love, the need shading green eyes. A surge of affection rushes through her, and Hermione is astounded to see a stream of bright purple light envelop Minerva and herself. Before she can determine what’s happening, she can hear Minerva's Scottish lilt whispering words of love. More than hearing such wonderful words, though, Hermione can _feel_ them settling over her skin, caressing her soul, satiating her. The texture of affection strokes her mind. The liquidity of passion stirs her blood. And the words—the words wrap around her heart, promising everything. Everything.

Their tempo quickens, bodies sliding against each other, as their eyes remain locked. Words fill the room, caress their skin, illuminate their surroundings. As Minerva comes undone, as her body breaks apart, yielding to the feeling of completion, Hermione joins her.

Purple sings in a symphony of complementary tones, pulsing through the air while their bodies move in one rhythm. They are united, wrapped up in an unbreakable bond. And as their bodies begin to cool, the purple light diminishes, gently surrounding their spent bodies until each ray is absorbed.

Extremely fatigued, Hermione hardly feels the withdrawal of Minerva's magical fingers. She only knows loving arms are holding her and a well-known brogue is ghosting over her comfortingly, as she falls into a deep sleep.


	9. March 1998

Hearing the door to her private rooms open, Minerva turns quickly with wand drawn. She balances lightly on her feet, crouched and ready to defend herself. She hears her name called but remains ready, even knowing who has dared to enter without permission. Minerva is aware of the rising hostilities across the wizarding world. She cannot afford to let down her guard.

"There is no need for that, Minerva, I assure you. I come here at great peril to myself," a deep tonal voice states, as the speaker comes into view.

"Severus. Have you forgotten how to knock?" Minerva says testily. She lowers her wand but stands stiffly, not willing to relax while he is present.

"Normally I would not dream of foregoing the expected formalities, but these are not normal times, as well you know. Now," Severus says, raising a hand to ward off the sarcastic remark ready to be unleashed. "We do not have time to spar, Minerva. Your three missing cubs were found and the fairest questioned rather _vigorously_ before they escaped."

"Wh-what?" Minerva stutters, fear for their welfare making her weak.

"They became temporary guests at Malfoy Manor before choosing to take their leave."

Minerva feels shock roll over her, closely followed by fear and rage. She strides across the room, intent on going to Malfoy Manor and exacting revenge. A hand on her arm stops her, and she rounds on the Headmaster, ready to hex him.

"Minerva! Do not let your emotions get the better of you. If you go to the Malfoys, they will wonder how you found out so quickly what happened. You risk not only yourself but countless others who are trying to defeat the Dark Lord."

"Like _you_?" Minerva spits, her revulsion rising like bile. _Hermione, tortured._ She feels pain sear her heart.

"Do you really think you can break through their wards? They will capture you. Torture you. Kill you. And all you have done to protect Hogwarts, the students, and _others_ , will be for naught," Severus says heatedly. Suddenly he is very close, whispering, "Do not make a mockery of their courage. They revealed nothing. _She_ , even under the special attention of Bellatrix, did not fail." He lets go and steps back.

"Where are they?"

"Did you ever perchance hear the rumors that one third of their group left for a while, taking refuge with his eldest brother? Rather sad he displayed such weak character, not that I was surprised in the least," Severus drawls indifferently while looking around the room. His eyes return to Minerva's after he finishes, and his pointed stare conveys much more.

"They are safe?" whispers Minerva, hope making her heart beat faster.

"Much to the Dark Lord's displeasure that his most loyal disciples have failed him yet again." Severus strides past Minerva and pauses at the door, turning slightly to focus once more on her. "It is common knowledge you left for your ancestral home earlier today and shall be remaining at your manor for the duration of Easter break. It is also well-known how impenetrable your wards are, so much so that no one will attempt to contact you there. Have a care not to be seen, Minerva."

Before Minerva can reply, he is gone.

Turning toward her desk, Minerva stops short. Several filled vials and jars cover it along with other medical supplies. Her head swivels to the door incredulously, and she stares blankly while she tries to make sense of what has just transpired. Cocking her head, Minerva wonders whether she can trust Severus. Of course, in the end it matters little. She will travel to Shell Cottage, a refuge for members of the Order of the Phoenix, and hopefully find Hermione recuperating.

Frowning, Minerva crosses to her desk and studies the supplies. _How badly was Hermione tortured?_ Minerva grudgingly appreciates Severus's forethought. Since she has these supplies, Minerva need not worry about raiding the hospital wing's stores or, more importantly, being seen.

It does not take long to pack clothes, personal effects, and food. With one last look around her, Minerva calls for Elsa. A large crack fills the air, heralding her faithful house-elf's arrival.

"Elsa, please take me to Shell Cottage." Minerva takes the offered arm with a firm grip. She feels the familiar pull under her bellybutton when they disapparate. Moments later they arrive on the beach amid a thunderous crack. To their right Minerva sees the familiar sight of Shell Cottage. "Thank you, Elsa. I intend to stay here for the duration of Easter break. I shall call for you if I need anything during that time." She watches Elsa nod and disapparate away.

It is late in the evening, and Minerva can see flickering lights through the cottage's windows. The crashing of waves against the shore provides a hypnotic rhythm that soothes Minerva's frayed nerves. She takes some deep breaths, tasting the brine on her tongue. Wind whips off the water, ripping tears from Minerva's eyes. Quickly, Minerva sends a Patronus to announce her arrival before striding up the sandy incline. As she nears the door, she sees Bill Weasley open it, his wand raised protectively.

"Ask your question, Mr. Weasley. I am in no mood to dawdle out here," Minerva says testily, the brisk wind pulling at her scarf.

With a jerky nod, he asks softly, "What did you say to me about my injuries while at St. Mungos after the Battle of the Astronomy Tower?"

"I told you that going after Snape or Greyback would be foolhardy and would only get yourself killed. That Fleur would still love you regardless of your injuries or the threat of becoming a werewolf. Fleur heard the tail end of our conversation and told you that your scars were sexy and she had every intention of marrying you."

A crooked smile covers Bill's face, and he ushers Minerva into the house. "I'm so glad to see you, Professor."

"It is good to see you, too. I heard what happened. How are they?" Minerva sheds her cloak, hat, scarf, and gloves.

"Professor?"

Looking toward the familiar voice, Minerva's eyes widen as she notices Harry in the doorway leading into the kitchen. "Harry. Are you all right?" She strides forward, studying his face. "That is quite a Stinging Hex you received." She gently touches his swollen cheek with two fingers, turning his face to each side so she can see the extent of his injury.

"Yeah. Hermione gave it to me just as we were caught so I would not be recognized. She protected me. Was tortured because of me." Harry’s voice is raw, as a few tears slide over blotchy cheeks.

Automatically, Minerva pulls Harry in for a hug. "Hush now. She made the choice. No one forced her. You know how strong she is. She’ll be okay."

"It's just, she's like my sister, you see. And I can't stand the fact that they hurt her. Because of me."

"Not because of you. Because of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I am certain she does not blame you." Stepping away, Minerva continues. "Now, let's see what we can do about this hex." She pulls a small pouch out of her cloak pocket and enlarges it. " _Accio_ Deflating Draught." She catches the vial as it shoots in to the air. "Drink this, Harry."

Moments after consuming the draught, Harry's face reverts back to its normal features. "Thank you, Professor."

"You are quite welcome. Were you hurt in any other way? I may have something to help you."

"No. I'm worried about Hermione."

"Where is she?"

"Upstairs. She took a Dreamless Sleep Potion a few hours ago—"

"What's this?"

Turning toward the new voice, Minerva allows herself to take stock of Ronald's appearance. His lip is cut and swollen, his lower jaw is bruised, and blood has crusted over several cuts and abrasions. "Oh, Ronald. That looks painful."

"It's nothing," he mumbles, sitting heavily in a nearby, overstuffed chair. He slouches forward, hiding his face in his hands.

"None of that, Mr. Weasley." Minerva bends toward him. Once Ronald lowers his hands, she wastes no time healing his lip and removing the dried blood while the others stand by. She takes out a bruise-healing paste and gently rubs it over his jaw. As she holds his face in place gently, she notes with alarm it begins to tremble. Looking into his eyes, she watches tears escape.

"It should have been me. I told them to take me." He whimpers.

"It's not your fault, Mr. Weasley." Minerva looks into his eyes compassionately. "Ronald, she does not blame you."

He shakes his heads and squeezes his eyes shut tightly. "I heard her screaming. Bellatrix hurt her. We could hear that bitch shouting at Hermione. I couldn't stand it!" He begins sobbing, his hands once more covering his face, as Minerva awkwardly pats his shoulder.

"Drink this," Minerva says softly once his tears abate, holding out a potion. Docilely, Ronald accepts it and drinks it without a word.

"What is that?" Harry asks curiously.

"[Dr. Ubbly's Oblivious Unction](http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Dr._Ubbly%27s_Oblivious_Unction). It will help ease his thoughts. Obviously, what has occurred is troubling him greatly."

"Well, doesn't it bother you? You're supposed to love her—"

"Mr. Weasley! Do not presume to speak to me as if we are close friends. I will not tolerate disrespectful behavior, regardless of your obvious distress over recent events. I am here at great personal risk precisely because I could not stay away knowing what transpired earlier today."

Glassy, reddened eyes skitter away from her own, as she stands up straight, barely holding her anger in check at the presumptuous way Ronald has addressed her. She does not care that he is one of Hermione's closest friends or that he is recovering from unrequited love. She will not allow him to redirect his sense of impotence at her.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Ronald replies, his voice tight with emotion. Minerva accepts the offered apology with a swift nod.

"Do you know what was done to her? Did she tell you?" Minerva’s gaze sweeps across their grave countenances.

"The _Cruciatus_ Curse," Harry says softly.

"Several times. And she got a cut on her neck when Bellatrix held her at knife-point," Ronald adds.

"And I think something happened to her left arm. She wouldn't let us see, though," Harry continues.

"Where is she?" Minerva asks.

"Upstairs. First door on the right," Harry says.

Before going to where her heart sleeps, Minerva unpacks the food supplies she has brought and hands them to Fleur, who has been standing next to Bill silently.

"Thank you. These will help, I am sure," Fleur says gratefully. Minerva smiles slightly, recalling a conversation with Molly Weasley before Bill and Fleur got married. Fleur impressed Molly with the way she stuck with Bill after he was attacked by Greyback, even with his scars and the possibility might become a werewolf. Truth be told, she impressed Minerva, too.

"Well, it is late. I am sure we could all use some rest. I will see you in the morning." Minerva sweeps up the stairs and carefully opens the door leading her to Hermione. She gasps at what she sees. Hermione is curled into a tight ball, her arms wrapped around her trembling body and face tucked into her chest.

Carefully, Minerva approaches, not wanting to wake Hermione. Sinking onto the side of the mattress so that she is level to Hermione's chest, Minerva stares at the pale visage. Dried tears have made tracks down Hermione's cheeks, and some moisture is still present underneath her puffy eyes. Minerva swallows a sob. _What did she do to you?_

She is worried. If she lets Hermione sleep and it turns out that she has a broken bone or some sort of open wound, it may become much more difficult to treat in the morning. Deciding to take the risk of waking the sleeping witch, Minerva runs her hand down an arm and pushes slowly so that Hermione rests on her back. Seeing the cut on Hermione's neck, she squints, trying to determine whether it is a deep cut. It seems superficial. " _Tergeo_ ," she mutters. Once the dried blood is removed, she can see the thin line is shallow, barely slicing through the skin. Minerva applies some Murtlap Essence to the cut, watching it fades away. Next, she applies the Bruise Removal Paste to where the cut was as well as to several bruises in the shape of fingers that have discolored her swanlike neck. After they fade away, Minerva studies Hermione's body for any other signs of distress.

With a series of complicated spells, Minerva takes a diagnostic of Hermione's body to determine whether she has any broken bones. She finds several hairline fractures on her spine, ribs, and pelvis. Shuddering, distraught, Minerva painstakingly knits each vertebra in Hermione's back before moving to the other bones which need mending. _Why didn't she tell anyone?_ Hermione must have been suffering greatly. _Did she take something to dull the pain?_ Shaking her head, Minerva pushes such questions aside. She has her work cut out for her. Two hours later, Minerva breathes a sigh of relief. All the bones are repaired.

Next, she checks for wounds. Her blood runs cold as she reads the magical signature for a dark enchantment on Hermione's left forearm. Concentrating on it, Minerva takes her time, unwinding the spell. It is a complex one, one underlining the fact that Bellatrix is an experienced, powerful witch. Time passes without notice as Minerva continues the arduous process of removing the magical poison from the wound, a wound Minerva has not yet seen. Finally, Minerva leans back and lowers her wand. She looks around herself and notes how dark and cold the chamber has become. With a word a warm fire springs up in the room's fireplace. Now she can see what exactly happened to Hermione's arm.

Lifting the forearm and resting it on her lap, Minerva pulls the sleeve above Hermione's elbow gently. Hearing a whimper, Minerva's eyes fly to Hermione's face. Contorted into a grimace, Hermione's face reflects nighttime ghosts haunting her while she sleeps. Minerva is tempted to awaken Hermione, but she would rather finish treating the wounds before waking her to drink a healing draught.  

Minerva's breath leaves her as her eyes latch on to the vivid carvings in Hermione's flesh. She quickly covers her mouth with a shaking hand, trying to control her grief, her anger, her abhorrence for what Bellatrix has dared to do to the most important person in her life.

"MUDBLOOD" is carved down her forearm in deep, angry strokes. Minerva is determined to get rid of the wound, and having removed the hex, she knows she will be successful. Pointing her wand at the first slash, Minerva softly says, " _Vulnera Sanentur,_ " three times and moves to the next unnatural slice to heal it. Beads of perspiration drip down her back, but Minerva keeps going, determined to finish. By the time all the ugly markings are removed, the fire has burned down to embers. Minerva is glad to see the forearm is pink but untarnished.

Debating over whether to wake Hermione to have her drink a Wiggenweld Potion, she notices that her love seems to be sleeping a little easier. Taking it as a favorable sign, Minerva decides to wait. She transforms Hermione's clothes into more comfortable sleepwear before leaving the room to finish her own ablutions.  

After changing into a warm flannel nightgown, Minerva hesitates before sliding into the bed and curling around Hermione, who has turned onto her side once more. She breathes in Hermione's heady scent and releases a low moan. Holding her closely, Minerva kisses the top of Hermione's head and whispers, "I have you, love. I won't let you go." She feels a hand rest on her own, and she sighs as she closes her weary eyes. This is the first time she is holding Hermione outside of the dreamscape. She feels so solid, so _real_ in her arms. Minerva has dreamt of feeling this, of holding her love tightly while they rest.

Tomorrow she will hear all the horrible details. Tonight, though, she is content to hold Hermione in her arms, where she belongs, so thankful to have the chance.


	10. April 1998

Awaking slowly, Hermione stretches luxuriously, her feet flexing as she sighs contentedly. Opening her eyes, she notes how the early morning rays are filtering softly through the drawn curtains. She feels a warm body shifting next to her, and a well-loved lilt breaks the comfortable silence.

"Good morning, mo Gràdh," Hermione hears as an arm pulls her backward.

Hermione hums, turning so she can face her companion. "It is with you here." Hermione leans in for a chaste kiss. She feels herself rolled on top of her love, her legs resting between Minerva's toned thighs.

"That it is. How did you sleep?" Minerva asks quietly, her hands running up and down Hermione's back, causing her to shiver deliciously.

"Lovely. I dreamt of you. Here. With me. And then I awoke to find my dreams have come true." She watches with consternation as Minerva's eyes begin to mist. "Minerva?" Hermione asks, her voice dripping concern. She is pulled into a tight hug, and she feels her concern grow as tears dampen her nightshirt. When she feels Minerva's grip loosen, Hermione pulls back enough to look into Minerva's eyes.

"What is it?"

"I don't want to leave you. Two weeks ago I came here to help you, knowing I had failed you by not finding a way to protect you from capture. Now Easter break is ending, and I have a duty to return to Hogwarts. But I do not want to, Hermione. I want to turn my back on my duties and stay with you. Help you. Protect you. Love you."

"Then stay. I know I'm supposed to remind you of why you must leave, of the students who need your protection, and of the precariousness of the wizarding world if you were to suddenly disappear, but I want you with me. These last two weeks..." Hermione shakes her head, as she wipes a tear from Minerva's cheek. "Having you with me has made me stronger. My body is healed, and lying in your arms each night has chased away the nightmares. So stay."

Holding her breath as countless emotions cross Minerva's face, Hermione selfishly hopes Minerva will give in to her desires. She muses that this would not be the first time she has persuaded Minerva to do something she wanted to do but felt she should not. Six weeks ago they made love for the first time in the dreamscape. It was glorious. Intense. And addictive. They had not been intimate again—a consequence of the stresses brought upon by the war, their need to discuss strategy and share information, and Hermione's unfortunate capture with Harry and Ron that resulted in their being brought to Malfoy Manor, where she was tortured by Bellatrix.

When Hermione awakened the day after they escaped from Malfoy Manor, she found herself held tightly by Minerva, her body sore and achy, although not in the pain she had experienced before taking a Dreamless Sleep Potion at her friends' insistence. At first she believed they were in the dreamscape. Yet, as the divine smell Hermione knew so well filled her senses, she realized that what she thought she had smelled while in the dreamscape had been a pale imitation to what she was surrounded by at that moment.

Minerva was already awake, watching over her. The kiss they shared was incredible—an affirmation of what they had shared in the dreamscape and a promise now that they were together. Before they could do more, though, a knock at the door heralded the boys' arrival. When Minerva tried to move away, Hermione held her firmly, glaring at her in warning. Message received, Minerva quickly changed into a cat and meowed with such haughtiness Hermione could not help but chuckle. In retrospect, she could understand Minerva's resistance to allowing others to see her so informally.

It astounds her that two weeks have passed. Two weeks where they have kissed and held each other for hours, but done little else. Hermione was not feeling well enough, although she hated admitting it. While her bones were healed, they ached, as did her back muscles. So she rested. And rested. And rested. However, Minerva was with her most of the time, lying next to her and holding her safely or sitting in a chair next to the bed, reading. It made all the difference.

Not being able to make love with Minerva has bothered Hermione greatly. Knowing she could have easily died while at Malfoy Manor has caused her to feel a sense of urgency. She needs to express her feelings in the most elemental, visceral way. Her recent experiences have reinforced how precious every moment is. And today she feels well-rested and healthy.

Leaning in, Hermione softly kisses Minerva, tasting the salt of her tears. She swallows Minerva’s sighs and threads her fingers through ebony locks, as she delivers more kisses, each one more passionate. A moan bubbles up when she feels Minerva’s arms tighten around her waist.

Breaking the kiss, Hermione rests her forehead against Minerva’s, as they pant lightly. She can’t bear the thought of never feeling Minerva’s arms around her like this again. The threat of death hovering over them compels Hermione to take what she wants, what is hers — Minerva.

With a whispered word she removes their nightclothes, swallowing Minerva's gasp with a thorough kiss. Her body heats up as Minerva's hands pull her closer, and she revels in the feel of her nude body sinking into Minerva's alluring curves.

Not wasting time, Hermione begins to move her body slowly, as she breaks the kiss and slides her lips down Minerva's swanlike neck. She pauses to nibble where neck meets shoulder, feeling Minerva's shudder in response. Flicking her tongue out, Hermione laves the indentation of her collarbone before sucking on it strongly.

"Hermione." Minerva arches her neck, her hands splaying on Hermione's lower back and her body bucking in response.

"I need you, Minerva," Hermione breathes while sliding her lips down porcelain skin, her hands wandering over supple back muscles back and her lips seeking out a hardened nub. Sucking it into her mouth, Hermione pulls on it with her lips, as she allows her tongue to play with the nipple. Moaning at how responsive Minerva's body is, she sucks more forcefully, her fingers playing with the other nipple. She becomes more excited hearing the sounds Minerva makes, her whimpers and moans, as Hermione devours one breast before switching to the other one. She holds on to Minerva tightly, feeling her back muscles flexing, and she continues to lavish attention on the person who has captured her heart.

With every sensation so sharp and intense, Hermione can feel tears forming in her eyes. Minerva's body feels so solid and real. _Real._ What they shared for all those months while she has been hunting Horcruxes was real, too, but the memories of those experiences are hard to capture when she seeks to reminisce.

This though, this feels much more substantial. As Minerva's body moves underneath her, she hears Minerva's gasps and whimpers, feels long fingers weaving through her hair and pulling her upward toward ravenous lips, tastes salt and skin and breath, smells their combined arousal, and gazes into darkened green eyes—eyes as green as the Scots Pine found throughout Scotland. And she understands, finally, that although what they have shared in the dreamscape has been profound and distinct, such encounters are poor shadows of what they are sharing now.

As their tongues stroke provocatively, Hermione is rolled on her back, Minerva's sinewy form hovering over her. Hermione's nipple is pinched, and she arches instinctually. She whimpers through their kiss, feeling her focus narrow down to their mouths, her delightfully abused breast, and the throbbing between her legs. She wants Minerva so badly, needs her with a passion that might have scared her, if not for the certainty Minerva will always love her, protect her, cherish her. She knows this with the absolute certainty that she feels the same way.

Those devilish fingers continue to pinch and roll Hermione's nipple as their kiss breaks, and Hermione keens when Minerva's hot, hot mouth covers it, her fingers moving to her ,other breast to torture it in the same way. It feels delicious.

"How I have longed to taste you, my love," Minerva mumbles around the aching nipple, and Hermione groans, as she feels it nipped by sharp teeth before Minerva begins sucking on it again. She cups the back of Minerva's head, holding her close to her chest, rolling her hips and hooking her feet over the back of Minerva's ankles. She can feel her wetness seeping between her legs, her center pulsing in time with Minerva's sucking motions.

"Minerva, please." Hermione’s body so wound up she’s sure she will pass out from the tension. Heat travels through her body, and she gyrates more forcefully, needing Minerva to complete her.

"I have you, mo Gràdh. I won't let you go," Minerva croons, her body slithering down as her hands push Hermione's legs apart to accommodate her.

Penetrating eyes capture Hermione, asking permission, before fingers slide through her swollen folds.

Hermione moans hoarsely, her legs quivering at the sensation. She can feel the slightest twitch of finger, the smallest pressure on her bundle of nerves, pushing her higher, ratcheting her desire. "Oh, Minerva! Ohhhh," Hermione moans when thin lips cover her clitoris and suck strongly. A beloved, sharp tongue lashes out in a staccato rhythm, and Hermione cries out, ecstatic as waves of sensation overwhelm her.

The air becomes heavy and sweet, and although Hermione has her eyes closed, brightness seeps through her eyelids. It is not a harsh light, though. It is welcoming and warm, like Minerva's touch. Opening her eyes, she watches in wonder as Minerva's hovering body, gleaming with perspiration, is outlined by a golden luminescence. Hermione welcomes Minerva's kiss, loving the way their tongues rub together, as Minerva begins moving against her. Hermione positions her hand between their bodies, seeking out Minerva's engorged nerve center. They moan together, her questing fingers finding what they seek, and Hermione traps it between two of them and pulls slightly.

"Ah, Hermione!" Minerva shouts out, her body quivering. She jerks her pelvis upward repeatedly, faster and faster. Hermione's fingers slip, and before she can pull up, Minerva impales herself on them with a growl. She can feel her fingers being grasped by strong inner walls, and the knowledge that Minerva is so close to release urges Hermione to take what is hers.

Curling her fingers, Hermione pushes into Minerva forcefully, loving how Minerva's pace quickens and her body shudders continuously. Adding a finger, Hermione feels Minerva's inner walls fluttering and hears a low, drawn-out moaning that makes Hermione smile fiercely and redouble her efforts. She slides her other hand down Minerva's spine and grabs her backside, pulling her closer as she repositions her leg so it is between Minerva's. Greedy lips cover hers, taking her breath away, and she cries into Minerva's mouth as two fingers enter her and start pumping. She tears her mouth away, sucking in oxygen, as her body responds to the new stimuli. She ignores the slight sting she feels, mesmerized by the glowing body undulating against her and by her body's capitulation to her lover's demands.

Their eyes lock, and Minerva's body stops, frozen in ecstasy for a timeless moment, before rolling against Hermione's languidly, riding out her climax. Hermione follows her quickly, and she cries out Minerva's name, as she loses control. Gold light envelops them so brightly she can see nothing save Minerva's passion-filled eyes. Minerva's mouth moves, forming words, but Hermione cannot understand them. She cannot concentrate. It is enough to hear Minerva's contralto voice, the desire and love sounding through each uttered word.

As fingers continue to pump into Hermione at a slower pace, a thumb brushes against her clitoris, pulling a strangled moan from her. Hermione's body moves in time with Minerva's fingers, and she notes with distraction how Minerva's body moves sensually against her leg while Hermione's fingers continue to thrust into her.

The golden light pulses brightly once more, and Hermione feels energy rush through her.

She feels alive and invincible and free.  

"Beautiful, so beautiful," Minerva whispers reverently, her eyes glowing.

"Minerva." Hermione feels overwhelmed by the moment. Her eyes slam closed, as she falls over the precipice, Minerva's roar of triumph mingling with her cries of exaltation. Their rhythm slows, labored breathing filling the room and shadows seeping into the corners, as the magical light diminishes. Minerva's head rests on Hermione's chest, and Hermione relishes in her ability to run her fingers through long, ebony tresses. The room becomes dark, the early morning rays struggling to pierce the drawn drapery once more.

Traveling in and out of consciousness, Hermione barely feels the soft line of kisses delivered across her chest. Sighing, Hermione hums in contentment.

"You have given yourself to me twice, mo Gràdh," a loving burr breaks the comfortable silence.

Abashed, Hermione keeps her eyes closed until gentle fingers cup her cheek and a warm voice says, "You need not hide from me. I feel honored. Humbled. And although I could not give you my maidenhood, I have given you my heart. My soul. All that I am. I belong to you as surely as you belong to me. Whether we are together as we are now or separated by our responsibilities, we are never truly alone. We have each other."

"So, you're leaving then?" Hermione asks plainly.

"You know I must, Hermione."

Nodding, Hermione allows herself to be pulled into a tight embrace. "We will see each other again. And we will build a life together. I refuse to believe anything else."

"Nor should you," Minerva says, her eyes shining.

Suddenly, a bright light flares in front of them and solidifies into the form of a doe as the voice of a well-known nasally baritone fills the room. "Minerva, you must return by sunset. Use the west entrance that leads to the hidden corridors. Sharp eyes are watching. Do not miss dinner." The Patronus disintegrates, and darkness rushes back in.

"As much as I abhor the idea, we must rise." Minerva unabashedly stands, stretching in the cold room. Her beauty and strength capture Hermione, leaving her mute and motionless. Minerva turns and raises an eyebrow, her lips lifting into a smirk, as Hermione's eyes roam over the older witch's body. "Bathe with me?" Minerva extends a hand.

Nodding dumbly, Hermione grasps the hand and rises wordlessly. They embrace for a moment before making their way to the adjoining bathroom. Each moment becomes bittersweet, knowing they will need to part in a matter of hours. They do not talk, allowing their hands to communicate their feelings. Unlike the nearly frantic pace of their lovemaking a short time ago, each motion is tender, each moment drawn out. And when they climax in each other's arms, lips melding together and tears mingling with the shower water, no words are needed to express their love, their need, their fear.

"What's happened?" Harry immediately asks when he sees them enter the kitchen with solemn countenances.

"Minerva must return to Hogwarts today."

"What? You're not staying, then?" Ron asks in surprise.

"I cannot. If I fail to return, the students will be in danger. Nor can I help you with your plans to enter Gringotts, although I suspect Griphook might be willing to, for a price. I suspect you will need to return to Hogwarts soon to finish your quest, and it will be better for you if I am there," Minerva says as she prepares some tea.

"How do you know what we are planning to do?" Ron asks in an accusing voice.

"I told her, Ron. Are you daft or just a bloody fool? We can trust her!" Hermione exclaims, stepping in front of Minerva. She notices with satisfaction that Ron quickly backs down.

"Right. Fine." He holds his hands up in a placating manner.

"Why do you think we'll have to return to Hogwarts?" Harry asks curiously.

"Hogwarts was created by some of the most powerful wizards who ever lived. They are envied by many, as are their artifacts," Minerva says as she stirs her tea.

"But that doesn't mean their artifacts are in Hogwarts, does it?" Harry asks.

"Doesn't it? Can you deny that your school years have molded you, helped you to become who you now are? Why shouldn't that be true for others, regardless of what roads they chose to travel once they graduated?" Minerva asks.

"But first, we need to look elsewhere. If we return to Hogwarts, it will all end there," Hermione asserts. They have discussed this very point before. Even if all roads lead back to Hogwarts, and Hermione knows in her heart they do for many reasons, they must follow up on any leads they have which point toward any Horcruxes being outside of their alma mater. Bellatrix was upset that they had the Gryffindor sword, upset enough to cause them to believe she’s hiding something else extremely important within her vault. They must take the risk to find out by breaking into the bank.

Looking around, Hermione regrets their mood has become so somber. Yet they are committed to seeing this through. They must.

They decide to eat breakfast before creating a plan to break into Gringotts. Minerva serves as a good sounding board, her knowledge and battle-experience helping them to anticipate all the possible ways they could be caught. Although daunting, Hermione is grateful for her love's input. There are a thousand ways their plan may go wrong, and they need to minimize as much as possible any chance that they might be caught.

"How do you plan to get into Bellatrix's vault?" Minerva asks.

"That's what we need to work out. Griphook has agreed to help us, but it's not as if we can just waltz in there," Hermione says. "Nor do we have much Polyjuice Potion left."

"I have some with my supplies," Minerva says, "but, as the batch was made on the day I came here, it will not be ready for over a week. You will be able to use it on May 1st."

"Well, that's okay. We can figure out the other details while we wait," Harry says.

"But, Harry! We need to get moving!" Ron squawks.

"That's right! Let's rush over there and just start waving our wands. I'm sure we'll have no problem," Hermione says bitingly, irritated by Ron's constant objections. "Ron, use that thick head of yours! We need the polyjuice. And while we wait we can rest up, get ready, go over our plans so that, by some miracle, we might make it out alive."

Subdued, they sit hunched around the table in the small, dingy room. Eventually, conversation begins again, Ron and Harry asking Minerva about the happenings at Hogwarts. Hermione is aware of most of the events thanks to their regular meetings in the dreamscape, but she learns a few new things as Minerva answers their questions.

The shadows in the room become more pronounced and with a sigh, Hermione realizes that Minerva must leave.

She walks with Minerva across the lawn and toward the boundary wall. Once Minerva passes beyond it, the Fidelius Charm will have no effect, and she will be able to disapparate back to Hogwarts. They stop in the waning light, the sun blocked by the rising sand dunes and the wind pulling at their clothes.

"Thank you for coming here. You have made all the difference," Hermione steps closer, her hand resting over Minerva's heart. "I love you, Minerva. I hope you know that."

"Aye. I do as surely as I know I shall never feel complete until you are in my arms again. We will talk next week in the dreamscape," Minerva wraps her fingers around the wrist of Hermione's extended hand, as she lifts her other hand to cup Hermione's cheek.

They lean in, allowing the kiss to deepen as the sound of waves pounding against the shore surrounds them. The kiss is extraordinary, filled with dedication and desire and desolation, and once it ends, they remain motionless, breathing each other's air.

Slowly, they pull back, and Hermione struggles to let go. She knows she needs to. She lets her hand drop and smiles tremulously. "Until then."

Minerva offers a jerky nod, her eyes brimming with emotion. "Tha gràdh agam ort. I love you. My heart belongs to you. Be safe, for my sake."

Hermione watches as Elsa appears, and she continues to stare into Minerva's eyes until their connection is broken by their disapparation. A sob bursts forth, as she turns toward the cottage, and she feels as if a part of her has left with Minerva.

So much at stake. So many sacrifices.

Wiping away the tears with the back of her hand, Hermione makes her way back to the cottage. She will see this through with Harry and Ron. They will finish this quest, and they will get on with their lives.

Hermione has a glorious life waiting in the wings, and she has no intention of missing it. The love she has found with Minerva is infinite, glorious, and profound. It has buoyed her when she has felt low, guided her way when she has felt lost, and strengthened her when she has felt weak. She will not be denied the happiness their union promises. And in the meantime, she will carry Minerva's love in her heart, burning away all the doubts, pain, and fear.


	11. May 1998 Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I have used events from the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows book and the last movie in this chapter. Please be aware that when the two did not agree, I picked the version that best served my purposes. Also, no Hermione/Ron kiss will find its way into this story because at this point Hermione and Minerva are firmly established.

Furtively, Minerva glances behind her before striding down the hallway on the seventh floor. Something has happened. All the old secret passageways are guarded, dementors hover around all the boundary walls, and regular patrols travel through Hogwarts' halls—Severus and the Carrows are no longer attempting to disguise their support for Voldemort. Turning onto the left corridor, Minerva sees the entrance to the Room of Requirement form, as she hurries to it. With one last look behind her, she enters the room.

"Professor!" Seamus Finnigan shouts across an enormous room. Looking around she spots several Gryffindors, a few Hufflepuffs, and some Ravenclaws sprinkled throughout the large room, as are their belongings—opened trunks, caged owls, House robes, heavy blankets, lit lamps, and bulging bookcases. Above them several multicolored hammocks are suspended. Not surprisingly no Slytherins are present. They are undoubtedly helping the Death Eaters with their preparations for whatever is to come.

"Where is Mr. Longbottom?" She has just heard that the Caterwauling Charm was tripped at Hogsmeade. She sincerely hopes that was not his doing. She knows he, along with about twenty students, are holed up in this room to escape capture for acting out against Voldemort and their refusal to perform the _Cruciatus_ curse on people who earned detentions.

"He left through the passageway to Hog's Head a few minutes ago, probably to get some food," Lavender Brown answers.

Nodding, Minerva takes a good look at her students. Many sport wounds and bruises, concerning her greatly. Of course, Poppy has been forbidden to treat them. She feels anger course through her. Evidently the medical supplies she brought here once she left Hermione ten days ago were gone. Ten interminable days. Ten heartbreaking days. They spoke three days ago, but it was not the same.

Hearing voices at the mouth of the secret tunnel, Minerva looks over expectantly. Excited voices fill the air in the next few moments as Harry, Hermione, and Ron follow Neville out of the passageway. Minerva hears little, her eyes fastened on Hermione's bright eyes. She wants nothing more than to swoop in and pull Hermione into her arms, but she stays rooted to the spot. Incapacitated by her position, Minerva rails at propriety. Aren't they in the middle of a war? Couldn't they all die at any moment? The Golden Trio's presence can only mean that Voldemort will soon arrive, that the final showdown is now, that it shall all end here.

Arms pull her into a fierce hug, and Minerva feels time speed up, as she grasps Hermione to her shuddering body. The embrace is cathartic, and Minerva feels purpose fill her soul. It isn't just for the students or for the wizarding world that Minerva will fight on this day. It isn't merely to avenge her dear friend Albus's death or the many lives extinguished by Voldemort and his followers. She will fight to the death to protect this incredible woman.

"I love you, Minerva," Hermione whispers before pulling away. Minerva is tempted, so tempted to pull her back, to kiss her, to hold her, to declare her love in front of everyone, but once again Hermione takes the choice from her by stepping back two paces with a wry smile and dip of the head.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley, it is good to see you in one piece," Minerva says stiffly while running her hands down the front of her robes and dusting off her arms. Her eyes flit around the room, and she is relieved to see no one is shooting odd looks her way.

More noise from the passageway heralds the arrival of more people—Luna Lovegood, Dean Thomas, and then even more—the Weasley twins, Ginevra Weasley, Lee Jordan, and Cho Chang.

Harry stops mid-sentence and stares at Ms. Weasley, who only has eyes for him. They exchange greetings while Ron grouses about his sister ignoring him. Minerva bites back a chuckle. She can well understand their focus. After all, Minerva is having a hard time remaining circumspect while Hermione is mere feet away.

"Snape knows," Ms. Weasley says suddenly. "He knows Harry was spotted in Hogsmeade."

A cacophony of voices fills the air while everyone urgently provides ideas and demands action. More people crowd into the room, contributing to the medley of chaos.

"Longbottom. Are you well?" Minerva asks distractedly, recalling the reason she is here: the Carrows were laughing over their latest exploits earlier, including bestowing some nasty slashes on his face for refusing to follow their evil directives.

"I'm fine," he says, waving her concern off. "Don't worry about me. Now that they're here, Voldemort and his followers will get what's long in coming."

"Oh, are we able to say his name now?" Luna Lovegood asks with an air of interest.

"I don't think it makes any difference what we call him," Harry says. "He already knows where I am."

Feeling she needs to leave, if only so they can complete their planning while she rallies the professors, Minerva turns to Hermione. "What can I do to help?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione responds.

Hearing Harry talk about the Ravenclaw diadem, Minerva raises an eyebrow. Alecto Carrow is in the Ravenclaw common room. Before she can warn Harry to not search for answers there, he and Luna slip behind a small cupboard located in one of the room's corners to leave.

"Ms. Granger, I must go." Minerva leans in and whispers, "I love you. Please stay safe. I have so many more memories to create with you, my dear." She steps back and chances a look at Hermione's beautiful face. She can see the sorrow, the determination, the love. She wants to smile, to reassure Hermione, but the risks are so high and their future so uncertain that she cannot push past them to offer solace. Hermione's hand reaches out and squeezes Minerva's quickly, a small smile directed at her. Then Hermione turns back to Neville and resumes their conversation on what they need to do. Taking her cue, Minerva leaves, her heart quivering. She must prepare the castle for the ensuing battle, but first she must make sure Harry is not caught by the Carrows while trying to find the diadem.

***

Hermione stands outside the Great Hall's closed doors with several members of the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army. Adrenaline shoots through her. She can hear Snape's words reverberating through the doors as clearly as if she were standing in front of him, threatening the students, demanding they turn Harry over. Gritting her teeth, Hermione waits with bated breath for the big reveal.

The Weasley twins stand on either side of Hermione and Ron, the elder Weasleys and Kingsley behind them along with Tonks and Lupin, and then Luna, Neville, Seamus and the others are standing behind them. They have formed three rows in the form of a triangle. Once Harry reveals himself, they will enter to show their support for him and their defiance against Snape and anyone else who follows Voldemort. Together they will make their final stand.

"It seems despite your exhaustive defensive strategies," Harry says, his voice ringing out, "you still have a bit of a security problem, Headmaster. I'm afraid it's quite extensive."

That's their cue. Hermione and Ron each push open a door and they stride into the hall as the others follow closely. Harry continues to talk, and Snape finally reacts by drawing his wand. The students move to the sides of the room, no doubt afraid of being caught in the crossfire.

Time slows down, as Hermione watches Minerva come out of nowhere and push Harry behind her. Snape lowers his wand slightly before raising it again defensively. It is Minerva who goes on the attack, each spell thwarted by shield charms Snape hastily erects. Hermione sneers with the realization he will not attack her. Both Carrows hit the ground, as they’re hit by the ricochet of a stun spell. To Hermione's shock, Snape jumps out the window, Minerva's shout, "Coward!" following him.

Just as Hermione begins to believe that they will have enough time to find the remaining Horcruxes, Voldemort's oily voice slithers through the castle, making her feel nauseous.

Shortly after his evil voice stops, Pansy Parkinson yells out for someone to grab Harry to hand him over to Voldemort. Ginny steps in front of him, and Hermione quickly steps up behind him. There's just no way she’ll allow anyone to hurt Harry, not after all they've gone through, not while she has the ability to protect him. Soon most everyone surrounds Harry defensively while Minerva has Pansy and the other Slytherins escorted out of the castle and the underage students evacuated. _Good riddance._

With mere seconds left before she must leave with Ron to the Chamber of Secrets to find basilisk fangs to destroy the Horcruxes, Hermione's eyes search for Minerva. All she wants is a few moments with her. As Harry runs off and Minerva turns toward the doors, Hermione steps forward and lays a hand on her love's arm.

"Professor, I will see you soon." She wants to say so much more— _please be careful, please know how much I love you, please don't die, please, please, please._

"Yes. Of that you can be sure," Minerva responds, a warm hand covering Hermione and squeezing gently. It isn't the words that make Hermione lose her breath, though, but rather the intensity of emotion communicated through Minerva's clear emerald eyes.

And then Minerva is moving away, shouting out to Neville as several professors follow. As Hermione and Ron dash into the large vestibule, she watches in amazement as stone knights jump down from the high walls, animated and ready to protect Hogwarts.

"Hogwarts is in danger. Man the boundaries. Protect us. Do your duty to our school." Minerva's directives bolster Hermione's determination. With one last glance at Minerva's retreating figure, Hermione follows Ron to the second floor girls' lavatory. They have a power-hungry, immortality-seeking dark wizard to defeat.  

***

It is over. Voldemort is dead, thanks to Harry's courageous final stand against him. Such a selfless act. _How many times has he sacrificed himself? Faced death? And yet he is still alive, thank Merlin._

One of the worst moments of Minerva’s life occurred when she saw Hagrid holding Harry's lifeless body. The cry ripped from her throat was pulled straight from her very soul. Shaking off those moments, Minerva searches the Great Hall to reassure herself he is alive and safe. She sees him sitting next to Luna.

His whispered words as she hugged him minutes after he defeated Voldemort still ring in Minerva's ears: _Snape didn't betray Dumbledore._ She needs to understand what he means. As the thought crosses her mind to approach him, she watches him disappear. Smirking, Minerva quickly realizes he has ducked under his Invisibility Cloak. She can't blame him. No doubt he needs some time alone, away from all the people seeking him out, touching him, talking to him. He symbolizes so much.

Although weary and wounded, Minerva feels light and joyful. Hermione is alive, and their way is clear to be together at last. She spies Hermione sitting off to the side with Ronald, away from those who are celebrating, talking excitedly, or helping the wounded. They both look exhausted. Hermione has blood on her chin. Minerva starts toward them, but stops when she sees them both look at the space between them and rise as one. Without a backward glance they walk out of the Great Hall. She decides to give them time to talk. No doubt they have much to work out now that their great quest is concluded.

So much has occurred in a relatively short span of time. Many lives, too many lives, have been lost, and the castle—Merlin! It will take much time and effort to repair it. Sighing, Minerva decides to see to transporting the wounded to St. Mungo's before reinforcing the wards. Although Voldemort is dead, many of his followers may still be on the grounds. Word has it that Death Eaters are fleeing the countryside in droves. The Auror Division has its work cut out for it with capturing those who acted on behalf of Voldemort. Then there is the chaos of determining whether any were actually under the _Imperius_ curse while committing such atrocities. No doubt many will claim as much.

In addition, numerous individuals were wrongly committed to Azkaban who now need to be released. Just thinking of the next steps exhausts Minerva. Thankfully, Kingsley has been appointed as the temporary Minister of Magic. _Better him than me._

What calms Minerva, though, what infuses her with energy, are thoughts of how soon she will hold Hermione in her arms, kiss her plump lips, and feel her soft skin sliding against her own. Knowing she will be able to move forward with Hermione by her side brings a soft smile to her face. She winces as her cheek begins to throb. She will need to get it looked at by Poppy later. Having a younger lover has reinforced the fact that she must take care of herself.

"Minerva?"

Smiling at the serendipitous moment, Minerva turns to Poppy to find out what she needs and to get treated for her own wounds.

***

The Great Hall is in shambles. Several of the walls have holes in them, stones of various sizes are strewn about the large room, and dust has settled like a gray blanket throughout the hall. People take up every available table and chair along the walls, some consoling, others talking excitedly. Hermione is not looking forward to dealing with the consequences of the war. It will take a long time to recover. Her eyes flitter about as she looks for the one person who will make the uncertain future more bearable.

_Minerva._

As if hearing her thoughts, the venerable witch turns around, and their eyes meet. She looks tired, her cheek slashed by an errant hex and her robes slashed across her chest. But she is the most beautiful woman Hermione has ever laid eyes on, and she can clearly see Minerva's inner glow reaching out toward her.

Not caring what others think, Hermione runs toward Minerva. She sees Minerva instinctually extending her arms, waiting to have them filled. Just before she reaches Minerva, mere steps away, Hermione's body is jerked short, and she stands paralyzed in the midst of a rapidly quieting assembly of people.

"Hermione Granger, you are under arrest," a sonorous voice states, the words reverberating across the hall. Confused, Hermione stands motionless against her will, her eyes pleading with Minerva to help her.

"What is the meaning of this, Kingsley?" Minerva demands in a dangerous voice, as she steps in front of Hermione defensively.

"I am sorry, Minerva, but I have no choice. She was a fugitive on the run, and she must face the charges against her."

"What charges?" Harry exclaims angrily. "She just helped us defeat Voldemort! How can you enforce a bogus law that was lodged against her just to capture her?"

"The charges are for truancy, for failure to attend school while under the age of majority and without her parents' consent. It is a valid law that was in effect long before Voldemort placed his followers in the Ministry. There is also the question of her parents' whereabouts," Kinsley says gravely.

"You know perfectly well why she did not go back to Hogwarts. We were helping Harry! If we came back here, we would have been captured or even killed," Ron shouts.

"Why not just arrest the lot of us then, huh? The Muggles and the blood traitors and everyone who broke one of those manufactured laws put into place to weed out anyone who didn't support Voldemort," Harry continues heatedly.

"Those laws have been overturned with the defeat of Voldemort, but the truancy charge is still valid and must be dealt with," Kingsley Shacklebolt answers.

"This is absurd! After all she has done, all she has suffered, you would lock her up in Azkaban rather than pardon her?! For shame!" Minerva says.

"We cannot arbitrarily ignore the law just because she is our friend. What type of an example would that be—trading one corrupt government for another? I am sorry, but she must come with me so we can sort it out." Kingsley turns to Hermione, who can feel tears running down her face, and waves his wand to release her. "Will you come peacefully?"

"Yes," she says, because what else can she do?

"Your wand?" Kingsley extends his hand. She surrenders it and lowers her eyes, mortified.

"Leave her with me under house arrest, then," Minerva suggests.

"Minerva, she has been on the run for nearly a year. I cannot take the chance she will escape again," Kingsley responds.

"Oh, come now! She has never given us a reason to doubt her word. If she promises to remain, then that should be sufficient."

"Minerva, while a warrant was out for her arrest, she successfully slipped into the Ministry of Magic, broke into Gringotts, and entered Hogwarts. I cannot help but believe that if she wants to escape, she will accomplish it," Kingsley says dryly.

"Dad!" Ron says, turning to his father. "Can't you do anything?"

"I'm sorry. I'll do everything I can to exonerate her, but she'll have to go with him," he answers sadly.

"Let me talk to her privately first, Kingsley," Minerva says firmly. "You have my word I will return her to you momentarily," she adds sarcastically.

"Do not leave the hall," he agrees with a reluctant nod.

Wiping away the tears on her face angrily, Hermione follows Minerva to the far end of the hall. She has no idea what to say. She is so tired, and she finds it hard to believe that instead of celebrating their hard-fought victory in the arms of her love, she must go—where?

"Am I really being taken to Azkaban?" she asks, her voice weakened by fear and disbelief.

"Yes, but we will get you out as soon as possible. I will not allow him to treat you this way!" Minerva’s voice quivers with rage.

"My parents, they are somewhere in Australia. I didn't tell them what I was planning or give them any warning. I don't know how they will react if we find them and restore their memories."

"Hush, my love. It will work out. You were protecting them, and one need only look to all the families that were attacked to recognize you were saving their lives," Minerva says, her eyes bright with emotion.

They cannot touch, cannot hold hands or kiss or do anything to comfort each other, and it’s killing Hermione. Instead, she stares into turbulent emerald eyes, hating how helpless she feels.

"Try to enter the dreamscape tonight," Minerva whispers.

Not understanding how she will be able to enter without her wand, Hermione opens her mouth to question Minerva's request. She is stopped by long fingers held against her lips, and it takes all her present control to not kiss them.

"I believe in you. You have taught me to not believe in all the rules I followed for most of my adult life. You are extraordinary," Minerva says in a raspy whisper. "I will hold you in my arms tonight."

Without giving Hermione time to respond, Minerva turns and strides across the hall. In a daze, Hermione follows. They rejoin Kingsley, Ron and his parents, Harry, Ginny, and Luna. Hermione smiles tremulously at them before glaring at Kingsley. He stiffens noticeably before grasping her arm, nodding toward everyone, and disapparating them out of Hogwarts. Minerva's tear-stained eyes, full of fury and determination, bolster Hermione's resolve to not allow anyone to keep them apart for long.


	12. May 1998 Part 2

After several hours of tending to the needs of others, Minerva makes her way to her private chambers. She notes the far wall of her sitting room is destroyed, and standing gingerly on the ledge, she looks out at the abused castle grounds. The day is overcast, clouds blocking the afternoon sun, blocking needed warmth and light.

Anger courses through Minerva. So much destruction. So many lives lost. The challenges before her are daunting: rebuilding Hogwarts, reassuring the wizarding community, providing a safe haven for the next generation to learn how to use magic. Merlin knows last year's perverted teachings have set them back. She will have to overhaul the curriculum to address the unacceptable discriminatory practices Severus, the Carrows, and the corrupt government propagated.

Severus.

Stepping back from the crumbled wall, Minerva crosses to a chair and sits down heavily. Harry told her, shortly after Hermione was taken away by Kingsley, an incredible story, one she initially found hard to believe. Yet, he was adamant, insisting she see Severus's memories, and the truth is clear. Severus placed himself in great danger while pretending to be loyal to Voldemort. All those years, he actually was watching out for Harry's safety. All those years, he remained in love with Harry's mother.

Once again Minerva finds her perspective changing. It concerns her, causes her to question everything she thought she knew. She was so sure that Severus supported Voldemort, that he killed Albus to further the Dark Lord's cause. She was mistaken. Very much so.

Now that the veil has lifted, Minerva recognizes how Severus supported her in little ways, sheltered her from the Carrows' wrath as she undermined their actions, warned her when her contempt proved too blatant, and informed her when Hermione was hurt—even helping her to go to Hermione. In addition, he'd agreed to kill Albus only after arguing strenuously against it, acceding to Albus's request in order to save Draco's soul from the fracturing that would have occurred after committing murder. He also finally gave in to Albus's request to spare the Headmaster from the undignified, painful death he surely faced after placing on his finger the ring that held one of Voldmort's Horcruxes, activating a poisonous curse.

For the last seven years, Severus protected Harry in the best way he could without revealing his actions, even going so far as to hide the Gryffindor Sword and transfer it to Harry when it was most needed. Severus was a true hero, and Minerva felt humbled. He hid his allegiance, one borne through sustaining love, out of a sense of selflessness; meanwhile Minerva has hidden the love she feels for Hermione due to silly, selfish reasons.

Fire bursts in the fireplace, catching Minerva's attention, and a face forms as the flames turn green. She practically snarls when she sees Kingley's face.

"Minerva, I am available now to discuss Hermione."

Without a word, Minerva steps forward as his face dissolves, and after throwing some floo powder into the fireplace and stating her destination, she strides in to his new office. Of course she has been in the Minister's office many times over the years. She notices how bare it looks now and understands he has removed all evidence of his predecessor, Pius Thicknesse's, effects. She sits down stiffly, waiting for him to begin the conversation.

Calmness settles into her bones, her resolve clear. Hermione will not remain in Azkaban this night. She will not allow it.

"Minerva, I want you to understand that I had to arrest Hermione. If my first act as Minister was to ignore the law or to disregard it when it applies to people I like, the wizarding community would quickly lose faith in me," Kingsley begins, holding up his hand when Minerva opens her mouth to object. She ignores it.

"But Azkaban?! She has done nothing but fight against evil, given up her childhood, her innocence! She was willing to give up her very life for us. All of us! You fought beside her, Kingsley! Why not house arrest? How can you imagine she would try to escape?" Minerva rants, her voice rising higher and higher as anger overwhelms her.

"With the flux of those in power and the danger Death Eaters and others sympathetic to Voldemort's cause pose while we try to apprehend them, it is actually safer for her to be in Azkaban. The Dementors are not there, and she will not be in contact with anyone other than myself and a few others from the Order—"

"She is in solitary confinement?!" Minerva growls.

"Just until we figure this out. Please be reasonable. Everyone is watching."

"What of Mr. Potter? Or Mr. Weasley for that matter?" Minerva demands. "Both were the same age as Hermione when the school term began." She looked it up in the privacy of her rooms earlier today.

"Ron had permission from his parents to not return to school. They told me so themselves. And they were Harry's legal guardian. His aunt and uncle signed over their legal rights when they decided to abandon their home and relocate to a safer location."

"But Hermione was in their care, too. She was staying with them for the summer," Minerva persists, hoping to find a logical way out. "And why is Muggle English law controlling instead of the wizarding community's law where the age of majority is seventeen?"

"She lives with Muggles, so their laws apply."

"You sound like Voldemort!" Minerva practically shouts, exasperated, her chair falling behind her as she jumps up. "She is a witch! You are splitting hairs, enforcing charges that were lodged against her in the same spirit as all those ridiculous laws used to throw Muggles and blood traitors and enemies against the Ministry into Azkaban for the last nine months!" Minerva glowers at him. She always thought him to be a logical, intelligent man. Before today.

"What would you have me do, Minerva? I cannot ignore the law!" Kingsley’s voice betrays his frustration as he looks up at her.

"Let wizarding law rule. Or take the position she was under the Weasley's care and given permission from them to not attend Hogwarts. Or pardon her as a war hero who did what was necessary to protect her family and the wizarding community by not returning. What I will not accept is for you to enforce a minor infraction by prosecuting a person who saved us all."

"I agree it is a minor infraction. And I can easily make this go away by reducing her sentence or perhaps even suspending it if she agrees to community service," Kingsley offers in a deceptively mild voice.

Minerva stares hard at the stranger before her. She simply does not recognize him anymore. "Who are you, Kingsley? The man I fought next to would never bring shame on a comrade, all in the name of politics!" Minerva shakes with emotion, her fingers itching to hold her wand, to lash out at this man she thought to be her friend.

"She broke the law," he says stubbornly.

"If she is prosecuted, the expulsion will stand, and all the hard work she dedicated to her studies will be wiped away," Minerva responds, disdain and anger threading through her words, giving an edge to her voice.

"Although unfortunate, I am confident that will not hold her back. She is a powerful witch. Everyone knows how intelligent she is, that it was her exceptional skills which kept her, Harry, and Ron safe while on the run. Besides, this will go a long way toward establishing a government that applies the law to everyone, no exceptions, for the good of all."

"For the good of all?!" Minerva turns away and takes some deep breaths to calm herself. Grimly she turns back to the Minister, determined to make him change his mind. "Very well. If you truly believe it to be in the best interest of the wizarding community to besmirch the reputation and doom the future of one who placed herself in great peril time and again to defeat the most dangerous wizard we have ever faced, then I must resign my position at Hogwarts immediately since I shall not hesitate to speak out against your decision publicly, and to do so while leading Hogwarts would serve to remind too many people of the dark times we supposedly just ended." She nearly smiles at the gasp Kingsley fails to hide, but feels too much animosity at his short-sighted decision to do anything more than stride toward the door.

"Minerva! You can't!" Kingsley sputters.

Stopping with one hand on the doorknob, Minerva turns back and says in a deceptively mild voice, "Oh, but I can. And I am. What you are doing is not in the best interests of the wizarding community. They want to celebrate Voldemort's defeat and recognize those responsible for removing such an evil wizard from power. What you intend to do will bring confusion and disillusionment to everyone. They will wonder why you are enforcing this law and become suspicious of your motives. Soon, they will fear that you will persecute them for other actions taken during the war, acts of defiance and desperation which should be overlooked. You are traveling the wrong road, and I will not dumbly follow you down it."

"But the children, who will lead the children, Minerva? People trust you! We need someone to rebuild Hogwarts and guide the next generation," Kingsley implores, his arms spread wide and his face earnest.

"Drop the charges and release Hermione. Immediately. Take me to her now. And I will be your Headmistress of Hogwarts. Otherwise, I assure you I will be very vocal with my objections." Minerva stares down the new Minister of Magic, watching as emotions flitter through his eyes and a vein in his forehead pulses.

"This is not a good way to begin our relationship as Minister and Headmistress, you must realize." Kingsley sighs.

"Well then perhaps next time we disagree you can save us time by simply opening your eyes to the truth of my words," Minerva responds with some asperity.

"Is she so important to you that you are willing to turn your back when we need you the most?" Kingsley asks, his voice soft.

"She needs a champion right now, and I can be that person. What you are attempting to do may in your eyes be enforcing the law, but justice will not be served. You can easily dismiss the charges and tell the public that upon further investigation it became clear no crime was committed."

"That does not answer my question, though. Minerva, why is this so important? You would throw away your career, your position in the wizarding community, for her?"

Shaking her head, Minerva says, "She is a phenomenal witch who lost her family, her innocence, her youth, all to this war. She could rely on no one over the last year, and she nearly died while helping Harry, helping _us_ , defeat Voldemort. The least I can do is help her now. Her grades, her achievements are important to her. They have defined her, created the foundation upon which a phenomenal witch has matured, and taking them away will devastate her."

"And are you intending to threaten me with your resignation every time I make a decision that displeases you?" Kingsley asks sarcastically.

"If it happens to be as ill-thought out as this one, I may have no choice," Minerva answers in a similar tone.

A sharp bark of laughter breaks the thick tension between them as Kingsley shakes his head. He stares at her silently for several moments, and his body loses its stiffness. A slight smirk appears on his face, irritating Minerva enough that she huffs and opens the door.

"Minerva?"

Sighing loudly, she looks back over her shoulder and catches the wonder in his eyes. Years of fighting next to him, years where they forged a mutual respect and closeness, help Minerva to read him easily. She begins to think perhaps he might have been persuaded to change his mind regarding Hermione's charges without her drastic threat of resignation. No matter now. What's done is done. The lines have been drawn, and she can only hope their long association will help smooth away any bruised feelings. But she can help mend fences now that the storm has passed by confiding in him.

"She deserves a chance to live life without having to look over her shoulder constantly or losing any more than what the war has taken from her. I will make sure she has that chance." She cares not a whit whether Kingsley approves. As long as Hermione is by her side, she can take any condemnation he or anyone else in the wizarding community might throw at her. And although she is not coming straight out and admitting her feelings for Hermione, she can see he understands. Her determination must transfer through her body language, as he merely shakes his head while rising from his seat.

Holding up his hands in surrender, Kingsley says, "She is lucky to have you. Now, let's go get her, shall we?"

***

Sitting on top of a thin mattress, Hermione tries not to give in to the cold while pulling the threadbare blanket more tightly around shaking shoulders and knocking knees. She tries to still her trembling by holding her knees close to her chest, a type of barrier erected in front of her heart. She tries not to give in to her emotions.

Nothing she tries seems to work, though.

She tells her body it need not shiver, that the incessant sound of the rough sea pounding on the fortress walls is not a reminder of how dank and bitterly cold her cell is. Nevertheless, the stones leech her body's warmth as she unwillingly listens to dripping water, each echo overtaking the sound of the next drop. The absence of lighting adds misery to the penetrating chill, emphasizing the lack of heat and the abundance of shadow. She sits in eternal darkness.

Despite her best efforts, her body begins to quake even more, and tears crowd the corners of her eyes, demanding release. After such a long struggle, after nearly losing her life countless times, after promising herself that if they could only survive the battle, her reward would be found in Minerva's arms, Hermione feels cheated. Powerless. Abandoned.

It's too early to try entering the dreamscape; looking at the weak rays struggling to enter her dank cell through the small barred window, she estimates it to be early afternoon. Although she may feel betrayed by the wizarding community, that feeling does not extend to Minerva. She is quite sure that the elder witch is doing everything she can to secure her release. What throws Hermione into this state of melancholy, though, is the fact that her sacrifices mean nothing to the wizarding community. She is alone. Treated like a dangerous criminal. Perhaps sitting in the very cell that was Bellatrix's home for fifteen years.

Shaking her head at her morose thoughts, Hermione admits to herself that it could be much worse. She remembers the picture of Bellatrix in the _Daily Prophet_ shortly after she escaped. The evil witch wore prison-issued, striped togs. Moreover, Bellatrix's picture showed her in shackles which attached to a cell so small that merely extending her arms would have allowed the evil witch to touch each wall.

 _Well, this cell is larger than hers was_ , Hermione thinks sardonically. And she is not bound in any way. Unfortunately, she is unable to cast spells. She tried as soon as she was deposited here. She was hoping to at least be able to use a warming spell to burn off the chill or a levitation spell to see out the small window. No such luck, though.

She cannot hear anything outside her cell. A heavy stone door and probably some type of silencing spell prevent any noise from reaching her. Such isolation does not really bother her. She became used to it while on the run. Nor does not knowing when she will be released upset her. She knows that Minerva and many of her comrades will not rest until she is free. What does distress her is being so close to beginning the next part of her life, yet being denied it.

The silence, the aloneness, the frigidity, the gloominess—all contribute toward Hermione's exhaustion. She struggles to remain alert and awake, but such efforts prove futile. Hermione murmurs the well-known spell to bring her into the dreamscape as a stray thought flitters through her mind of this morning when she last saw Minerva's burning eyes. As she nods off, she holds on to the hope that she will somehow open her eyes to the welcome sight of her lover.

A groan fills the room, and Hermione is surprised to realize it is her own voice breaking the stillness. Her eyelids are heavy, and it takes a concerted effort to open them. She realizes that she fell asleep. Instead of being greeted by the comforting view of Minerva's favorite room in her ancestral home, however, Hermione's startled eyes bounce off the walls of the Great Hall in Hogwarts. Students are filing out the front door, some yelling out their dismay while others heckle those who are remaining to fight. One well-known Scottish voice echoes over the chaotic cacophony of voices. Hermione watches as Minerva strides across the hall and through the entryway, Mrs. Weasley keeping pace.

Somehow Hermione is able to keep up, and she calls out to Minerva as they pass into the courtyard. Minerva stops suddenly, and in a loud voice she animates the stone Hogwarts guardians. As they jump off the walls, landing heavily on the ground before standing tall and marching forth, Minerva shouts, "Do your duty!" She turns to Hermione and repeats loudly as her eyes spark, "Do your duty!"

Not quite understanding whether Minerva is addressing her, Hermione steps forward. "Minerva?"

A long finger shakes at Hermione accusingly as Minerva's brogue cuts through the air, "You must do your duty!"

"I am! I have!" Hermione says loudly. "I helped Harry defeat Voldemort!"

"You must follow the rules, Hermione, the rules! You broke the rules!" Minerva chastises, her eyes reflecting disappointment, her voice reflecting anger.

Hands wrap around Hermione's arms, preventing her from reaching out to Minerva, holding her in place. "Minerva, please! Help me!"

"You broke the rules," Minerva says brokenly, her eyes bright with tears. "Now I must do my duty." She extends her wand arm, and Hermione gasps as a bright red stream of light is issued from Minerva's wand toward her heart.

"Nooo!" Hermione tries to scream, but no sound escapes her. The hands on her arms keep her incapacitated, pulling at her, as her mouth remains open in horror, her eyes widened in shock. And she stares into Minerva's eyes, so terrible, so sad, so bright.

"Hermione! Hermione! Wake up, my dear!"

With a strangled gasp, Hermione's eyes spring open, and her first muddled thought is she must have fallen asleep in the dreamscape. But now Minerva is here—her hands shaking Hermione awake, her voice calling Hermione's name, her eyes filled with concern. All Hermione can see is Minerva hovering over her, shadows hiding part of her face. Minerva pulls Hermione into a tight hug, and Hermione sighs, knowing that was, indeed, having a bad dream.

Expecting to see the sitting room once Minerva pulls back, she blinks several times, frowning at the constant sound of waves hitting stone. Looking around, Hermione's heart sinks, as she realizes she is still in her cell, still in Azkaban. Discombobulated, she gazes at Minerva questioningly.

"The charges have been dropped. I am here to take you home."

"Home?" Hermione breathes.

"Yes, mo Gràdh, home." As Minerva rises, extending a hand toward Hermione to help her up, Hermione spies Kingsley in the open doorway.

"You are free to go, Hermione. We owe you a great debt for all you sacrificed to defeat Voldemort. I will make sure the wizarding community is well aware of your courageous deeds. And there will always be a place at the Ministry for you, if you decide to enter public service," Kingsley says solemnly.

Nodding, Hermione mutters, "Thank you." She feels raw and rather upset over having been placed in Azkaban at all, but she chooses not to say anything. Shivering, she looks at Minerva thankfully as a warm cloak settles over her shoulders.

Leaning closer while buttoning the cloak, Minerva says softly, "You are safe now. And I hope you will not begrudge an old woman her wish to be near you for a long time to come. Now that you’re back, I am in no hurry to allow you out of my sight."

"I cannot think of anywhere else I would rather be," Hermione replies just as softly. They smile at each other, and Hermione feels a heaviness lift from her soul.

"Quite right." Minerva straightens to her full height. The elder witch hands Hermione's wand to her, which she tucks in her sleeve. As they approach Kingsley, Hermione feels a thick tension build between him and Minerva. They stop before him, and Hermione is shocked by the venomous look Minerva levies his way. "Safe? This is where you place your friends to keep them _safe_ while you learn how to lead? For shame!"

They leave the cell without another word, and after moving through several passages, they exit the building onto a small dock where several boats teeter on the edge of harsh waves. Minerva ignores them all, though, and leads Hermione down the western ramp.

"Thestrals," Hermione breathes. Three of them stand docilely at the end of the dock.

"You can see them?" Minerva asks with surprise.

"Yes." Hermione notes the sorrow such news brings to Minerva's countenance, but Hermione counts herself lucky that after all the events which have taken place, she was not able to see them the two previous times she rode one.

Kingsley tenders his farewell in a subdued voice before climbing on one of the skeletal animals and leaving.

Minerva says, "Hogwarts," to the winged beasts, and they mount. Hermione thought they would go to Minerva's ancestral home, but maybe Minerva believes Hogwarts to be her true home. Regardless, Hermione is content to go wherever Minerva leads.

Soon the raging sea churns below them, as they climb the sky. Although the rain has ceased, the air is brisk and the wind biting. Hermione bends toward her Thestral and clings more tightly to the black mane, hoping its bony body will provide protection from the wind. Ahead of her flies Minerva on the other Thestral. Hermione keeps her eyes focused on the witch even as the wind pulls tears from them, feeling herself calm as she accepts she’s out of Azkaban and safe from further danger.

Suddenly Hermione's steed rears up with an unearthly shriek, and Hermione clutches at its body with her thighs as a streak of red light just misses her. She sees more streams of light fill the sky, and she hurriedly points her wand while uttering a Shield Charm. Three attackers on brooms attempt to surround them in a V-formation. Reinforcing her shield, Hermione directs a Stinging Hex at the nearest assailant and follows it with a Body-Bind Curse. Grinning grimly, Hermione notes Minerva has disabled another while the third attacker throws curse after curse at them. Hermione yells, "Stupefy!" as Minerva's wand shoots out a strong, green light. Both their spells hit their last enemy simultaneously, and as suddenly as the attack began, it is over.  

Minutes later they land near Hogwarts' gates, and Hermione gratefully slides off her ride. Before she can even turn around, strong arms surround her, hold her, support her. "Are you all right?" Hermione hears. She turns in the embrace, her eyes searching Minerva's face. She pulls back, needing to make sure Minerva was not hit by any spells.

"Are you all right?" Minerva repeats, her voice more strident.

"Yes. You?" She cannot see any wounds, only a slight singeing at the ends of Minerva's long ebony locks.

"Aye. Let's go in." Hermione is glad for the protective arm Minerva keeps wrapped around her, and she leans into the warm body as they make their way into the castle. Looking around she is surprised to find it’s deserted. She was sure it would be overrun with people.

"Where is everyone?" Hermione’s voice is hushed.

"Resting. Mourning. Celebrating life. They stayed around to arrange for the delivery of bodies to their rightful resting places and to be treated for small injuries before I sent everyone home except the professors. Many will return to help repair the castle, but not today." They make their way into the Great Hall, and Hermione sees the majority of the Hogwarts professors gathered at a table where food and drink are littered. "Let us eat, and then, I think, a rest is in order. I cannot leave here for several hours, not until I have received reports on the extent of damage Hogwarts suffered and of those injured, or worse. By tonight, though, we will be able to leave here and retire home. Your friends are all staying at Shell Cottage, though, if you would rather join them there."

"What? You said you want me close to you."

"We will go together. Wherever you wish," Minerva says in a soothing voice.

"I would rather spend time with you at your home. I want to see your favorite room in person. I want to see where you go when you’re not at Hogwarts." Hermione’s eyes are trained on Minerva's deep green ones. They share a look of understanding, and the decision’s made. Several excited voices greet them, and Hermione smiles as they’re welcomed into the fold by those who fought valiantly next to them earlier that day against evil. And won.


	13. May 1998 Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, so I am once again in this chapter picking and choosing from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows book and the last movie and mixing them to suit my needs. Please be aware that when the two did not agree, I picked the version that best served my purposes or combined elements from both. I hope you don't mind. Epilogue to follow.

Between amiable silences and the sounds of cutlery scraping against plates, those left at Hogwarts pepper Hermione with questions, all wondering about her experiences while on the run. Whenever she hesitates to answer, some subjects too sensitive to touch upon so soon, the others are quick to withdraw the question and change the subject. Hermione is grateful. Throughout their early dinner, Minerva sits next to her, so close their thighs touch, reassuring Hermione she is safe and loved.

"Hermione, I have to tour the outside of the castle to finish the list of required repairs Filius began for me some hours ago. Do you wish to accompany me, or would you rather remain here?" Minerva rises from the long wooden bench.

Immediately missing her lover's warmth, Hermione rises quickly. "I will go with you, if you have no objection." Minerva's heated look beckons Hermione to follow her out of the hall and into a nearby classroom. As soon as the door is closed and locked, their lips crush together. They moan into each other's mouths while pulling each other closer. Hermione's thoughts become fragmented, her body's overwhelming reactions taking control. Groaning, she barely feels her body crash into the wall, her head cushioned by a hand cradling it tenderly, as she opens her mouth to welcome a more intimate kiss. She swallows Minerva's moans, hardly believing that she is at Hogwarts, that the war has ended, that she is kissing Minerva.

That this is real.

They indulge for several minutes, reveling in the sensations, their kisses long and slow and delicious. When Minerva finally lifts her head, her eyelids half-closed and eyes stained by strong emotion, Hermione is hard-pressed not to pull Minerva's face back, to press her lips against swollen, well-kissed lips, or to thrust her tongue into that beguiling, responsive mouth again and again. Minerva must easily read her emotions, her eyes flashing. She slowly grinds her lower body into Hermione's, her intense gaze watching hungrily as Hermione groans and rolls her hips forward, hands grasping Minerva's muscular backside. Their faces are close together, shallow breaths mingling, and Hermione’s skating on the edge of control. She wants Minerva desperately. Needs her. Waiting any longer seems a torturous thought, and after all they’ve experienced, she must feel Minerva's love fully.

"Minerva," Hermione pleads, as she allows her lips to touch a defined cheek and slide down to suck lightly on the underside of her strong jaw. She can feel the vibration of Minerva's groan, as she moves her mouth to her love's wildly beating pulse point. "You taste so good." Hermione's senses are on overload, surrounded by the scent of honeysuckle and lavender, the sounds of breathless gasps and strangled moans, the feel of silky skin and supple muscles.

Each moment is sharp and defined.

"Ohh, Hermione," Minerva sighs when Hermione licks the indentation of her collar bone and nibbles the sensitive skin at the junction of neck and shoulder. "We cannae do this right now," she murmurs, regret dripping off her voice, as her hands land on Hermione's biceps and press her back gently. Hermione stares with confusion into Minerva's apologetic eyes, not quite understanding why they are stopping. "Soon, my love. We need to tour the grounds while it is still light outside. It will take some time."

Hermione attempts to push away the sting of rejection, as she leans forward to rest her head on Minerva's collar bone. She can feel loving fingers sifting through her unruly mane soothingly, and Hermione takes some deep breaths to calm down and release the hurt, the vulnerability, the need. With a soft kiss on Minerva's sternum, Hermione turns away and magically unlocks the door. She looks over at Minerva and asks, "Shall we go?" her voice cracking, her eyes flittering over beloved cheekbones, not quite connecting with Minerva's emerald eyes.

"Yes. The sooner we finish here, the sooner we can return to this." Minerva reaches Hermione and runs a finger over her lower lip, evoking a gasp. Hermione's eyes fly to Minerva's face, and the affectionate look she receives helps her let go of any lingering hurt pride. A firm hand on her lower back guides her out the door, and Hermione cannot help but smile.

Walking the grounds takes hours. Hermione is content to remain with Minerva as she notes what needs to be repaired, prioritizing those areas that are most dangerous and nearest the castle. Finally they pause on the Viaduct Bridge. Hermione walks over to the edge and gazes over the bridge, musing aloud, "Harry broke the Elder Wand here after the battle and threw it over that way." She waves a hand vaguely in front of her. "He had everything he needed to be immortal, the wand, the cloak, the stone—all the Deathly Hallows—but he didn't want the power. Or the temptation of abusing it."

"What do you mean? The Deathly Hallows?" Minerva’s face is the picture of confusion and surprise.

"Yes. Harry and I, we hadn't heard the tale growing up, of course. But when Dumbledore willed me _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , I read all the stories, trying to understand why he gave it to me. And that story, _The Tale of the Three Brothers_ , turns out it was true, only most wizarding folk think it was just made up." Hermione allows herself to gaze toward the horizon, her thoughts focused on how they finally figured it out. "We kept seeing a symbol. It's a pyramid with a circle inside it and a line from top to bottom. It was in the book, on graves at Godric's Hollow, and Luna's father wore it as a pendant. We knew it had to be important."

Feeling warms arms slide around her waist, Hermione leans back into a welcoming body, suddenly feeling exhausted. "We figured out Voldemort was trying to find the three items to become immortal. Obviously, the Horcruxes weren't working out for him," Hermione states sarcastically. "The wand, Voldemort took that from Dumbledore's grave. The stone was actually in the snitch Dumbledore left for Harry in his will. And the cloak, Harry's had it for years, willed to him from his father and given to him during our first year at Hogwarts as a Christmas gift." Hermione runs her fingers over Minerva's forearms lovingly. "Dumbledore kept the cloak safe until Harry was old enough to have it, I guess."

"That old coot, always meddling," Minerva grouses. They stand silently for a few minutes, allowing the sounds of the dying day to blanket them. "And Harry had all three?" Minerva hooks her chin over Hermione's shoulder.

"Not all at once, but yeah. It's funny. When we found out about the Hallows, we all wanted a different one. Harry wanted the Resurrection Stone, Ron wanted the Elder Wand, and I wanted the Cloak of Invisibility." Hermione laughs sadly.

"Why the cloak?" Minerva asks, her hand making distracting patterns on Hermione's belly.

"So I could come and go as I please without worrying about what other people might think," Hermione answers breathlessly. The passion that has been simmering since their kissing session hours ago spikes strongly.

"Do you still feel that way?" Hermione feels herself turned so she’s looking into serious eyes. "Do you fear what others might think? What they might say?"

Slowly, Hermione shakes her head. "No. Before, I knew we could not reveal anything because the stakes were too high. But now we don't have to remain apart, and I don't care who knows." Hermione drops her eyes before looking back up with a sigh. "It could hurt your reputation, though, Minerva, and I would never want you to suffer because of our relationship. So, if you want, if you need to keep this a secret, I don't m—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Hermione Granger!" Minerva interrupts, her eyes sparking.

It seems as if Minerva has grown twenty feet in the span of two seconds, reminding her of how powerful and rightfully feared the elder witch is, and Hermione automatically steps back from Minerva's anger. Feeling her back foot stumble over some loose rocks, Hermione's arms flail, as she tries to maintain her balance. She realizes with horror that the safety balustrade was blasted away during the battle, and nothing is present to prevent her from falling off the side of the bridge. Her stomach drops, and she yelps when her body tumbles backward, gravity taking control.

"Hermione!"

All she can see is the overcast sky, the clouds darkening with unwept tears over the ravaged grounds. She can feel her hair whipping around her face, slapping at her, as she listens to the wind's screams.

" _Aresto Momentum_!" The shouted words reach for her, grab her, stop her with a jerk. She lies supine, surrounded by air and fear and relief. " _Mobilicorpus_ ," pulls Hermione steadily upward, arcing over the damaged side of the bridge and into waiting arms.

"I believe I now have several more grey hairs," Minerva says hoarsely while holding Hermione tightly. "As if I need them."

Breathing in the faint scents of honeysuckle and lavender, Hermione burrows her face into Minerva's neck, seeking comfort. The realization of what happened overcomes her, and her body trembles uncontrollably. She takes deep breaths, finding it hard to fill her lungs.

"Shhh, shhhh, Hermione. You are safe. I have you. I won't let you go. I won't," Minerva murmurs, her hands running up and down Hermione's back. And Hermione understands. Minerva will not treat her as some dirty secret, their relationship hidden for some indeterminate time from the wizarding community. She wonders, though, whether she is worth all the possible challenges Minerva might face once word spreads of their relationship.

"Does our age difference bother you?" Hermione asks timidly, turning her face enough to watch Minerva's reaction.

"You deserve someone younger, someone who can keep up with you." Minerva sighs.

"Wha--what?" Hermione stutters, pulling back to search cloudy green eyes while trying to keep up with the conversation.

"We view life differently. We are from different generations, and that colors everything we do and think. Maybe it would be better if you were with someone closer to your age and experience."

"That's my decision to make, Minerva. I have given my heart to you, and it's up to you to bloody well take care of it!" Anger spurs Hermione on, and she purposefully ignores Minerva's shocked look. "Don't you dare back away now that the war is over. Now that we have an honest chance to build a life together. Don't. You. Dare!"

Realizing they are nose-to-nose, Hermione tilts her head and firmly captures parted lips, swallowing the gasp, the moan, the whimper. Thrusting her tongue into Minerva's mouth, Hermione dominates the kiss before breaking it and striding several steps away. The possibility of Minerva not wanting to be with her hadn’t entered her mind. She thought with love came commitment. A happily-ever-after which kept her alive and hopeful over the past year. They had declared their feelings to each other, built a bond based on it—perhaps it was true she wasn’t experienced enough, mature enough to understand how to navigate a relationship. Obviously, she was missing something.

A stiff breeze reminds Hermione night is nearly upon them, and she shivers. Her thoughts begin to spiral out of control--does Minerva want her? Just hours ago she'd claimed to not want Hermione out of her sight. Has she changed her mind? Has she realized how young and inexperienced and unformed Hermione is? Has Minerva decided her feelings were created through the threat of an uncertain future, the immediacy of danger, or the yielding to Hermione's desire and yearning and admiration?

What will she do without Minerva in her life?

"Hermione," whispers on the breeze, as a hand turns her around to a face contorted with anguish. "You are right, of course. It is your decision. And I am not strong enough to walk away from you, if you do not want me to. I love you. I need you."

"Minerva, you _are_ strong. It's easy to walk away, to not miss what we might share. Right now everything's imagined, and you can't miss what you haven't experienced. But strength, real strength comes from facing the unknown, even with the fear that it might be hard or that sometimes we might not agree. I've never seen the formidable Minerva McGonagall back down from a challenge before. Please don't start now."

They hug tightly, and Hermione shudders, as the fear of losing Minerva continues to flow through her. She doesn’t want to imagine a life without the alluring witch.

"How is it you are so wise, Hermione?" Minerva whispers hoarsely. "Here I am acting like a simpleton, and you," trembling fingers reach out to cup Hermione's cheek, "you are once again reminding me our differences in age, experience, and maturity mean nothing. I've made assumptions—such pompous, condescending assumptions—and I am sorry. Please forgive me."

They cling to each other for several minutes, as the light fades and twilight falls. "Let's go home, Hermione." They slowly pull apart. Hermione nods, relief making her smile widely. Minerva's fingers tangle with hers, and they walk back to the castle, their hands clasped comfortably.

No one bats an eye when they enter the Great Hall, walking hand-in-hand. Feeling insecure, Hermione begins to loosen her hold, but strong fingers tighten around hers. Glancing over, she notices the challenge in Minerva's eyes and chuckles. Straightening up, Hermione notices as her eyes sweep the room, the other occupants direct smiles their way. She’s surprised. Maybe she shouldn't be, though. Certainly everyone reveres Minerva. Why wouldn't they want her to be happy? Hermione knows she will do anything to bring a smile to the normally taciturn Headmistress's face. Hermione doesn’t know why Minerva let her in, allowed her to see the woman behind the public figure, but she’s grateful—she will always feel grateful.

"Are you ready, my dear?"

"Yes." She feels excitement building in her chest at the thought of seeing Minerva's home. A twinkle in emerald eyes and a squeeze of a sure hand let Hermione know Minerva has guessed her anticipation. They smile at each other before exchanging farewells with those still around. Most are leaving now that the day has ended. Hermione is glad to know several Aurors will keep watch over Hogwarts, protecting the esteemed castle where so many fought against evil and allowing the professors to rest peacefully this night. Tomorrow they will begin rebuilding. Tonight is the time to rejoice that the morrow will come.

***

Light filters through wispy, ivory curtains, caressing the curve of flawless, alabaster skin from the indentation of buttocks to uncovered shoulders. A breeze touches the nude form, and Minerva watches avidly as goose bumps rise on the exposed areas of Hermione's beautiful body. It astounds her every morning when she awakes to find the love of her life lying next to her. Each day still feels sharp and defined, perhaps due to all they have experienced, and Minerva cannot help but hope she will never take Hermione's presence in her life and in her bed for granted.

 _She looks so young and innocent._ Smirking as memories of last night's activities filter through her mind, Minerva allows herself to run a finger up Hermione's spine. _Not so innocent._ Over the last three months Hermione has reminded Minerva through both their numerous discussions and intimate activities that she is a passionate woman.

Their time together has wiped away Minerva's insecurities. They have settled into a domesticity that’s surprisingly fulfilling for the formerly solitary witch. She feared she was too set in her ways, too independent and reserved to extend herself after so many years alone. Instead, she revels in their time together, and she frets that once the school year begins and she must live at Hogwarts once more, she will find it hard to adapt to not having Hermione by her side as her constant companion.

"Mmm," Hermione hums, her back arching deliciously. She turns her head toward Minerva, a sensual smile calling to Minerva, as long eyelashes flutter open. Minerva yields to the moment, leaning in to claim offered lips.

"My dear, you are breathtaking in the early light." She sucks on a full lower lip, moaning into the irresistible woman's mouth, as Hermione shifts to press their bodies together wantonly, ripping a throaty moan from Minerva. She holds Hermione tightly, her hands moving over flexing back muscles while she moves her lips down to a throbbing pulse point. Loving the sounds Hermione’s making, she rolls on her back so the younger witch is atop her and cups round buttocks possessively. Grinning up at the hazy look of desire directed her way, Minerva says playfully, "Did you want something, mo Gràdh?"

"You know exactly what I want." Hermione’s voice is smoky, as she slides her legs around Minerva's waist and thrusts her pelvis provocatively.

"That I do, my insatiable lass," Minerva says, licking her lips in anticipation.

"I'm insatiable!" Hermione guffaws. "You can't be serious!"

Smirking, knowing that she instigates their lovemaking most times, Minerva teases, "I admit nothing except wanting to please my love's voracious sexual appetite."

"An appetite you've created and therefore must feed." Hermione emphasizes her point by undulating, the scent of her arousal hitting Minerva's sensitive nose and causing her to salivate. Her belly becomes slick with the proof of Hermione's desire as she continues to move against Minerva, who growls when small hands frame her face and pull her into a torrid kiss. Lust demands she couple with this incredible creature, but love prevents her from ravishing her. Just. She constantly must remind herself Hermione deserves to be worshipped and cherished while they express their love in this timeless, elemental way.

The kiss breaks, and Minerva fears she will explode. Certainly her body temperature has risen drastically, her blood comparable to lava, flowing hot and fast, thickening, bubbling, building through the pressure of her need. Minerva continues to squeeze the younger witch's backside rhythmically, and Hermione falls on her forearms, their breasts pressing together as she tucks her head into the crook of Minerva's neck. Minerva allows her long fingers to run between those glorious globes, and grins victoriously at the guttural moan her actions elicit. She sucks at the sensitive spot behind Hermione's ear while rolling her hips. With Hermione's legs wrapped around her waist, her womanhood rubbing against Minerva's belly, she cannot hope to find relief, but she is able to more easily position her fingers. Feeling how ready Hermione is, she wastes no time slipping her fingers through the viscous fluid and smoothly into Hermione's gyrating body.

Keeping the pace slower than Hermione desires, Minerva refuses to hurry. When Hermione rears up, impaling herself forcefully and quickening their pace, Minerva sits up, removing her fingers and pushing her young lover back enough so their centers can touch. Minerva holds Hermione firmly at her hips and lifts one leg over Hermione's so the angle allows them to touch more intimately. Surging against her sensually, Minerva places an arm around Hermione's lower back to keep her steady while guiding Hermione's other leg around her waist. She moans at how wonderful they feel together.

"Oh, Minerva," Hermione gasps. "You feel incredible."

As they writhe against each other, Minerva kisses Hermione deeply, allowing her tongue to rub against Hermione's in time with their bodies' movements. She can feel Hermione's body tightening, readying for release. Wanting more leverage, Minerva holds on to Hermione's backside while moving to her knees. She slides her body against Hermione faster, her fingers grazing her lover's opening from the back and entering shallowly with each thrust, and her thumb pressing against her smaller opening. Hermione's gyrations become more pronounced, her whimpers driving Minerva higher as they race toward the precipice, intent on jumping off together. Making sure it is well-lubricated, Minerva becomes more forceful with her thumb, and not sensing any resistance, she enters Hermione as she takes a nipple in her mouth and chews on it ravenously. As Hermione falls over the ledge, screaming her release, Minerva feels her body explode.

A golden brilliance fills the room, enveloping them with a light that feels tangible. It fills the space between them, linking them, connecting them, bonding them in thick strands of sustaining energy.

Minerva feels as if Hermione is inside her, permeating every inch of her while they continue to thrust against each other. She stares into darkened eyes, and she can see the wonder and joy as another orgasm rolls through them. Throwing her head back, overwhelmed by how deeply she can feel each press of Hermione's clit against her own, every twitch and quiver as they rub maddeningly, fiercely, together, elongating their pleasure, Minerva howls her next release, her inner muscles clenching strongly around Hermione's magical energy, pulling it into her, claiming it, making it a part of her. She can see the golden light through her closed eyelids, and its warmth is comforting. Their rhythm slows, muscles relaxing in the afterglow. Minerva pulls Hermione on top of her, suddenly exhausted, as the magical glow fades.

"I love you so much," Hermione whispers, delivering wet kisses across Minerva's chest. They pant, their hearts thumping together, as Minerva languidly runs her hands over Hermione's back in soothing circles.

"I love you, Hermione," Minerva answers in a raspy voice. "I cannot imagine a future without you. Whatever you decide to do, whether it be returning to Hogwarts to study for your N.E.W.T.s, taking a year off from everything, or taking a job, I will support you."

"I don't relish the thought of not seeing you once school begins." Hermione’s fingers explore Minerva's ribcage.

Looking down, Minerva can see the frown on Hermione's lovely visage, and she places a finger under her chin to lift it toward her. Once their gazes lock, Minerva says, "We've never really discussed it, but I would like you to remain here with me. If you are living here, I can connect the floo network to my office and return here each night when I am not on call. Of course, if you decide to return to Hogwarts, you can choose whether you want to live in my rooms or take a room in the Gryffindor tower." Tenderly, Minerva threads her fingers through Hermione's sun-kissed, brunette locks. "I will not accept us being separated again, not after all we have done to get to this point."

"You want me to live with you?" Hermione asks, delivering a bright smile that pulls an answering smile from Minerva's lips.

"Aye, lass."

The passionate kiss she receives is brimming with love and happiness. When they part, Minerva drawls, "Shall I take that as a yes?" Another kiss leaves her breathless and ecstatic.

They stare at each other, grinning madly until Minerva finally closes her eyes. "Now, you've tired out an old woman. Be a good lass, and let's have a lie-in for a wee bit." She can feel Hermione's body shaking with laughter, and she opens her eyes to deliver a stern glare. It’s hard to keep from smiling, though, in the face of such joy. After a few moments gazing into amused eyes, she pulls Hermione in for a chaste kiss. Her last thought as she sinks into sleep is how her dreams have come true, dreams she never dared to remember in the light of day.     


	14. Epilogue: February 2008

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The last chapter! It is not Epilogue-compliant with the last Harry Potter book or movie. 
> 
> A/N, too: Thank you for joining me on this journey. I hope you enjoyed it!

Checking the time, Hermione smiles. She has just finished writing her report on how to better integrate the various departments within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Sending it on its way to Kingsley, Hermione hurries to leave. She has a very special date.

She never imagined how fulfilling working at the Department could be. Kingsley pursued her for years, at first for her forgiveness and later to work for him. He has turned into a wise, fair leader. Even Minerva grudgingly has admitted to as much.

Before working for Kingsley, Hermione returned to Hogwarts to study for her N.E.W.T.s. She had needed the time to decompress after the war and reclaim the year she'd missed while on the run with Harry and Ron. The castle accommodated them by adding a secret passageway between the Gryffindor prefect bedroom, where Hermione lived, and the Headmistress's private rooms. Hermione was able to spend time with Ginny and other classmates but still see Minerva outside of class. It took some time to convince Minerva this was the best way to proceed, keeping their relationship hidden while Hermione finished her studies. Surprisingly, it was Snape's intervention which swayed Minerva's stubborn insistence they not hide their love and defused her Scottish temper. Minerva never revealed to Hermione the exact contents of that conversation, but Hermione remains grateful he succeeded in influencing Minerva's perspective.

Of course, once she passed her N.E.W.T.s with flying colors and graduated with high honors from Hogwarts, all bets were off. As the years have passed, Hermione has fallen deeper in love with the beguiling witch. She needs only peer into luminescent emerald eyes to see her life—their lives—full of passion, love, and companionship.

And tonight is the anniversary of the first time they made love in the dreamscape.

As soon as she steps out of the floo, long arms pull her in for a thorough kiss. "Mmm, I love you," Hermione murmurs against smiling lips.

"I love you, Hermione. You make me so happy." Hermione smiles widely at Minerva's heartfelt words.

They eat at an intimate, cozy pub filled with dark wooden tables, wine-colored leather booths, and flickering hurricane lamps, taking their time and flirting outrageously while sitting near a roaring fire. Once they return home, they undress and slide under the covers. Eyes on each other, two soft voices utter simultaneously, " _Insomnius inconnivus_ Minerva McGonagall _"_ and " _Insomnius inconnivus_ Hermione McGonagall" while waving their wands. Sharing a smile, they close their eyes and fall asleep.

Over the years they have visited the dreamscape not just as a celebration of the bond they created while meeting there, but also to experiment. They have stretched the boundaries of imagination, creativity, and magic through such meetings. Hermione smiles. And they've learned about themselves and each other in this special place, this placed created by their minds.

Walking into the sitting room, Hermione smiles softly, noticing the differences between this room and the one located in their home. As on the day they first made love, a large four-poster canopy bed is positioned in the corner of the room. Smiling with anticipation, Hermione envisions the slinky midnight-blue negligée she wore that night and sighs with satisfaction while reclining on the leather sofa. She has every intention of recreating their first time together, only with some enhancements. Hearing Minerva's quick strides, Hermione is not disappointed by her wife's reaction.

Minerva pulls her off the sofa and into her arms, kissing her hungrily the way Hermione loves. Hands roam freely, mapping every inch with increasing fervor. With a thought, Hermione removes Minerva's clothing, gasping when the favor is returned. The kiss breaks, and they grin at each other.

"When I saw you in that provocative negligée for the first time," Minerva says, her Scottish lilt caressing Hermione's ears as they move toward the bed, "I knew I wouldn't be able to say no to you." She smirks and pulls aside the comforter before lowering Hermione on the bed. "You had that look in your eyes, such determination to make me yours. You overcame my half-hearted protests quite easily."

"I refused to wait any longer. I needed you, still need you. You are the love of my life," Hermione whispers as tears burn behind her eyes. Sighing as Minerva's body sinks into hers, Hermione holds the older woman tightly.

"Aye, and you are mine, mo Gràdh. Never doubt that," Minerva answers solemnly.

"Mmm, then I think you will just have to let me have my way with you," Hermione purrs, flipping Minerva onto her back and latching onto a hardened nipple vigorously, chuckling around it at the undignified squeak Minerva makes. After ten years, Hermione is well-acquainted with Minerva's irresistible body, and she intends to do everything in her power to satisfy her. She takes her time, tasting every inch of Minerva's heaving chest, taking extra care to lavish her breasts with affection until the older witch is mewling and writhing beneath her, begging for release. Only then does Hermione slither down Minerva's lithe body and settle between quickly spread legs.

"Oh, Hermione!" Minerva cries in response to the long lick Hermione delivers, traveling a path from Minerva's weeping channel to her pulsing clit. Hermione pins down gyrating hips and continues her loving assault, delivering several long licks before sucking on the swollen labia. Minerva's groans and whimpers spur Hermione's actions, and she focuses on how she can better make love to Minerva. She thinks about how much she wants to kiss her wife, how she wants to possess her, stimulate her, and please her. Rearing up she captures Minerva's mouth, twining their tongues together while positioning herself between legs that wrap around her waist.

"Wha—" Minerva starts, trying to see between their bodies.

"Trust me," Hermione breathes, tilting her hips and entering Minerva just barely. As she pulls out and pushes in once more, she feels the exquisite sensation of strong inner muscles pulling her further inside Minerva's body. After several more strokes, pushing deeper each time, she feels lips surround her breast, as she is fills Minerva completely. "Oh, Minerva! You feel incredible!"

"How, how are you doing this?" Minerva exclaims, her neck arching as her nails scrabble down Hermione's back, the slight pain exciting Hermione even more.

"I imagined it," Hermione pants before focusing on one more way she plans to please Minerva.

"OH, HERMIONE!" Minerva screams, her hips jerking forcefully in response to the new stimuli.

"Does that feel good?" Hermione croons. She begins thrusting more forcefully, swiveling her hips each time she plunges into Minerva's welcoming heat. The sensations are addictive, and she feels a carnal drive to push harder and faster, each thrust drawing out a moan or whimper until they become connected into a constant, breathless wailing. Each time their bodies draw together, she leans forward before withdrawing, eliciting louder and louder cries. She experiments with the angle and pressure of her body, wanting to draw out the pleasure. She can feel Minerva's body trembling under her, the inner muscles sucking Hermione in and holding on to her added appendage, causing a delicious friction each time she pulls out. Ducking her head, Hermione sucks on a hardened nub, lashing it with her tongue as her thrusts become uncoordinated. She can feel how close Minerva is, and her passion is pulling Hermione with her toward completion.

Purple light blankets them, as when they first made love fifteen years ago. Hermione feels lit from inside, and every part of her is connected to Minerva. Their eyes lock, and Hermione's body begins to shake as their souls embrace.

Slamming into Minerva with abandon and grinding against her body deliciously, Hermione succumbs to her body's demands, crying out Minerva's name as she climaxes. She feels Minerva fall with her, and their voices mingle while they ride the waves of ecstasy, holding each other tightly. Tucking her head into the crook of Minerva's damp neck, she licks the salty skin as their rhythm slows down. Rolling her hips, she chases the aftershocks, catching Minerva's soundless cries with her mouth. They kiss while breathing through their noses, tongues rubbing together, increasing their pleasure. As she slows her motions, Hermione braces herself on her forearms and pulls out completely. With a thought the extra appendage disappears, and she presses her body against Minerva's jumping clit lightly, moving her hips in a circular motion and humming in pleasure, as she swallows Minerva's resulting gasps. After a few more languid hip rolls, Hermione moves to Minerva's side, her hand cupping Minerva's sex possessively.

"You felt like...it felt as if your lips...and tongue...they were down _there_ ," Minerva says breathlessly, a stunned look on her face.

"I know how much you enjoy it when I love you that way, but I also wanted to be inside you and kissing you," Hermione says. Pressing her lips against Minerva's shoulder, she continues. "So, I visualized my mouth just above the...the..."

"The phallus you attached to your body?" Minerva finishes with a quirk of her eyebrow.

"Well, yes. And each time that mouth was close to you, it acted as I would have had my mouth been down there." Hermione finishes. After a pause she asks quietly, "Did you like it?"

Minerva's tender smile and light eyes provide the answer before she says with a pronounced burr, "Oh, yes," holding on to the "s" to emphasize her point. "Now," she says as she rolls on top of Hermione, "I believe it’s time for me to use my imagination."

She has always known Minerva's greatest gift is her powerful mind, and she does not hesitate to submit fully to the thrill of this magnificent woman applying her formidable mental abilities on satisfying Hermione in every way she can imagine. With a joyful laugh, Hermione pulls her raven-haired love in for a lengthy kiss, eager to experience whatever Minerva creates in their dreamscape. Her thoughts fragment, and desire takes over once more, propelled by passion, and love, and the promise that anything is possible, if only the mind can conceive it.

The End.


End file.
